


Deceptive Love

by oly_chic



Series: Prowl x Jazz Community 2016 Annual Challenge [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Romance, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8149976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: After pretending to be a couple for so long during a mission they forgot it wasn’t supposed to be real. An undercover assignment takes a stronger and deeper hold than the two mechs expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.
> 
> So pre-Earth that Jazz and Prowl aren't ranked officers.
> 
> I’ve been hitting massive writers block on all my fics since mid-August (minus the sparkling one, but even that’s hit the wall now), so hopefully I’ll have this done by September 30th, local time (which is pretty much behind everyone else).

A mech appearing to be a Praxian with sharp Vosnian winglet-like markers on his doorwings weaved around the marketplace. His red-violet chevron was colored more like a Vosnian frame than Praxian, matched the sharp "winglets," as well as his optics. Many noticed the mech, in part because he moved faster than most did this early in the orn, but also because a mech with any Praxian heritage was almost an impossible sight at the marketplace.

Generally speaking, Praxians did not shop in Decepticon territories.

Many knew this mech by now, known as Barricade, and those who didn't know him were somewhat relaxed by the red-violet highlights adorning his otherwise black-and-white frame. He sported no Decepticon markers, but his colorings strongly suggested he was a Decepticon sympathizer. Those who didn’t know him could still tolerate a Neutral's existence when they spent money on the Decepticon cause.

Barricade ducked around a large tank-former, coming up to the Polyhexian goods seller. "Hello, Digger. Did my package come in?"

"Yes it did." The merchant leaned down and gently pulled a small wrapped box from his storage space. "I think Meister will enjoy these."

“Thank you.” Barricade carefully accepted the box and its precious confections. He subspaced the box and left for home.

Driving until he hit the outskirts of the Decepticon town, he came up to a modest single-story housing unit, as plain in appearance as the surrounding terrain. To their neighbors and contacts, this was the home of the pre-bonded couple, Barricade and Meister.

“Barricade” entered the dwelling. When the high-end and camouflaged security system pinged him the all-clear notification he smiled. “Jazz, I’m home,” he announced to the security system Jazz would be monitoring, despite the fact it already told Jazz.

He swore he heard scrambling noises from the hidden sub-terrain room, despite the fact it was very soundproof. The silver-painted “Meister” came bounding out the hidden door and leaped at his companion. “Long time no see, Prowl,” he grinned as he grabbed Prowl. He kissed him with a much softer touch than his approach suggested.

Prowl chuckled into the kiss over the exaggeration before returning his affections. He pulled back first, looking into the color-changing visor. Its vibrant blue was also a treasured sight to Prowl, for its visual proof of the light and life of Jazz instead of the dark red visor of Meister.

Prowl’s optics didn’t change color and temporary recoloring measures were deemed too risky by both of them, so Prowl’s outer optic lens was permanently red until the end of the otherwise open-ended mission. Just like his modified armor to make him look enough Vosnian to minimize suspicion of a Praxian resident.

Jazz noticed the slight dimming in Prowl’s optics. He knew what it was; since Prowl had to change his optics to match their enemy’s, he had wistful tendencies whenever seeing Jazz’s blue visor.

Jazz kissed Prowl right between the optics. “How was your trip?”

“I’m getting better at gathering intel,” Prowl summarized, his optics no longer dim.

“Good. Let’s sit and you can tell me all about it.” Jazz tugged at Prowl’s hands and led him downstairs where they could monitor and document safely. They comfortably sat next to each other in the couch that replaced the standard Special Ops chairs.

Jazz deliberately brushed up against Prowl’s side. “I set the systems on auto when you got through the door, so don’t worry about duty. Tell me everything.”

“I wasn’t going to worry about duty. I know you do your job well.”

“I know you. You worry about all duty for the sake of tactical assurances.” Jazz teasingly brushed against him again, working his way to gathering Prowl in his arms when the story would wind down.

“True, I suppose,” Prowl said with a soft smile. It lasted only a short moment as Prowl switched mental gears. “I managed to make friends with the target, at the library.”

“Score! Was he in the war history section, like we thought?”

“Jazz, there’s basically only two sections in a Decepticon library: war history, and pre-war history. All poorly written and heavily edited,” he sourly added. Pretending to be a Decepticon war history enthusiast was difficult, but the target was more likely to befriend someone with Prowl’s personality than Jazz’s.

“I thought there was a third. Probably transcripts of the few non-war Decepticon speeches.”

“The library lumped those into their two categories, based on when the speech was first given. And actually, while I met him in general war history, he disappeared down the transcripts aisle.” Prowl gave Jazz’s hand a brief thankful squeeze. “He had a lot to say during our socializing that tested everything I’ve learned to not yell at him for being a fool.”

“I’m so glad my lessons on socializing with the enemy paid off.”

“Several times. Fresh Burn’s arrogance, stupidity, and unearned narcissism defined almost every move and word he made during out meeting and ‘friendly’ travels.”

“Which took _forever_.”

“I was gone for two orns,” Prowl protested. “You’ve been gone for up to a half deca-orn.”

“Yeah, but that’s me. I haven’t had to wait on the sidelines for a long time. And not for someone I personally been training from a novice-level of Ops training.”

“I had some Ops training,” Prowl continued to protested. After a pause he confessed, “It was just mostly on knowing how Ops agents think when they write their reports.”

The veteran agent grinned and Prowl returned to his story before Jazz could make any jabs. “Anyway, we travelled to the other off-base library, just like we speculated. Burn spouted off about some garbage in their war history section before excusing himself. Earlier I tagged his wheelwell during travel with that alt-mode gun, and that’s how I know he disappeared down the transcripts aisle.”

Jazz grinned and leaned over to give Prowl a big hug. “I’m glad to hear how your training paid off. Learning how to shoot a hidden bug-gun into a wheelwell is damn hard.”

Prowl returned the hug until Jazz released him. “I didn’t make it the first two shots. Luckily the drive was long enough to land the bug a third time.” He pulled a dataslug from his subspace. “I’ve got all the details here. Locations, audial, visual, frequency detections, and locations of just about every object’s original resting spot. We can use it to disable the security, sneak in, and get what we need.”

Jazz took the dataslug and placed it into the machine for loading. “The payoff on this will be huge. Then again, should we fail, the pain of torturous death will also be huge.”

“Well that’s not my preferred way to celebrate our ninth mega-orn together.” Prowl smiled and pulled out the box. “Happy anniversary.”

Jazz’s face beamed as he carefully took the wrapped box. Slowly unwrapping it revealed an ornately decorated box with distinct Polyhexian symbols. Inside the box were assortments of confections not only from Polyhex, but most were from his home district. “Wow,” he whispered in awe.

“So you like them?”

“Of course.” He carefully closed the box and set it aside on the console’s flattest surface. “How’d you get it?”

“I convinced Digger that Meister wanted to taste his last conquest’s favorite energons.” Meister’s cover involved doing a lot of contracted work for the Decepticons against misbehaving Decepticons and Neutrals, which made it easy to build a cover identity that got him invited into private Decepticon bars. The many secrets that poured from the drunken Decepticons in Meister’s company was almost laughable.

“Hah, well whatever works. This is worth my cover being even darker than planned. Maybe it’ll even get me into that one bar with the off-base officers.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Jazz decided to forgo a smooth transition and tugged Prowl until his partner was curled into his side and lap. “I got you something, too.” The comment was almost obvious, but they never assumed, given what their assignment could do to their schedules. On their fourth mega-orn since starting their assignment, and second mega-orn into strengthening their relationship, Jazz joked he had to get Prowl a gift because they never would know when or how the mission ended. Prowl took that to spark more than the Special Ops agent expected, but the results was more benign than Jazz feared. At it currently stood, they tried getting each other gifts every mega-orn.

Jazz pulled out a datapad from his subspace. “I knew the Decepticon library would bother you. It took some finesse on my last contract, but I managed to get away from the others long enough to get you this.”

Prowl turned on the datapad and saw a Table of Contents over Autobot field tactics during the same wars he had to pretend he followed the Decepticon version. He lightly rested his hand on its edges. “I miss home.”

“Me too. I thought this might help, though.” He leaned his helm against Prowl’s, and the tactician leaned back against his.

“It does. I’ve missed Autobot history. I miss reading reports that contain Autobot tactics, rather than me formulating unconventional plans around raw Decepticon intel. Thank you.” He leaned up for a kiss.

The two enjoyed resting against each other, not wanting to spoil the moment of being as much themselves as the situation allowed. Soon enough they’d have to resume their false Decepticon-sympathizer identities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same orn, just during the night whereas the previous chapter was during the early morning joors.

::Is it dark yet?:: Jazz comm’ed Prowl, using their privately encrypted one-on-one comms, who had the better position seeing the library.

::Almost. The librarian is turning off lights as we speak. It’ll probably be about two breems before he’s done and out.::

::Okay. So about our anniversary dinner, where do you want to go?::

::I’d like to go somewhere not Decepticon, but I doubt that’s an option.::

::Actually, if we head a little more south, we’ll hit a small neutral settlement that’s actually pretty neutral. There’s not enough mechs living there for the Decepticons to bother hitting the town. I was there a little bit ago and there’s a small outdoor restaurant with appetizing energon options.::

::Really? Like what?:: Prowl listened, adding his input based on certain descriptions. In almost exactly two breems he interrupted, ::The librarian is gone. I’m watching for guards from this angle.::

::Same,:: Jazz acknowledged, from his position overlooking the back and far wall. ::So what do you think?::

::I think it sounds like a good idea. It also sounds like a good idea to put our focus back on watch,:: he teased.

::I can do two things at once. I’ve done this plenty.::

::I haven’t.::

::Fair enough,:: he chuckled. He maintained silence until Prowl broke almost a whole half joor later.

::There are two guards on this side, but they meander a lot at a corner with a blind spot. I think they’re doing something they don’t want on camera.::

::Then they’re meeting the same two guards I see. Guarding a library-front must be about as boring as assignments come. How about I sneak in first, and then you follow?::

::You’re going to tell me when you’re moving, right?::

::Of course. I’ll start moving when the back guards are looking the wrong direction, and then I’ll stop and wait for when you give the okay to move in.::

Jazz moved quickly, followed by Prowl at a slightly slower and less nimble pace. They followed the camera-avoiding path they determined to be the most likely possibility to the hidden door, stopping at a nook labeled “Transcripts of Peace Talks.”

::Wow, I can see why they think this is secure,:: Jazz silently whistled.

::I’m sure that’s the only reason why this section exists in a Decepticon secret outpost.::

Prowl pulled two datapads at the same time. The softest of clicks was heard and the shelving unit slipped open just far enough for a slim Decepticon to slip through.

Prowl grimaced. His doorwings wouldn’t escape being scratched. Jazz went in first and scanned for cameras that their bug missed. The Decepticons had a camera on the entrance, but because of lighting issues they installed it halfway down the stairs. It wouldn’t pick them up for two more steps.

Jazz placed a crawling drone on the wall and pointed it to the camera. The drone speedily crawled towards the camera from above its lens view, dropping down on top of it. Using tools and analytic capabilities it opened a panel to patch into the feed. From there Jazz took over remotely and set the feed loop to make it look empty. The remainder of the cameras would suffer a similar fate, but first he’d let Prowl through.

Prowl didn’t want to go through. Duty called that he access the tactical logs and data, so he gritted his denta and scrapped through the narrow opening. Jazz winced at the metal-grating-on-metal noise. When the doorwinger was free, Jazz inspected the damage.

“You’ve done worse,” he murmured.

“But I’ve done better.”

“We’ll get you patched up at the settlement. There’s a medic that’s pretty quiet, so I’m sure we can buy some touchup paint without it somehow making its way back here about scrapped wings.”

“Good. Let’s work quickly,” Prowl paused and gave Jazz a soft smile, “so we can make it to that café before it closes.”

“I can work fast. Just you watch.”

Prowl watched out of the corner of his optics while he cleaned away evidence of scrapped doorwings, until all the cameras were tampered by the drone. Jazz installed a code to turn off the feed loop in two joors. They didn’t expect to be inside the secret outpost for anywhere near that long, but oversetting the clock was better than the risks with the alternative.

They took less than a full joor before they had copies and photos of schematics, logistics, results samplings, locations, and Decepticon names for Shockwave’s newest weapon in development. Both Autobots internally felt ecstatic that their eleven mega-orn assignment’s original purpose was being realized, but both kept calm on the outside. Excited mechs made mistakes.

Prowl tilted his helm at Jazz’s back as he filed back the last three enemy datapads. “Are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m just looking at this Decepticon’s collection of ‘adult-only’ stuff. Decepticons are into some weird things, mech. Wanna see?” Jazz held up a datapad, but to Prowl’s relief he couldn’t see the screen.

“No. Assume that answer is forever ‘never.’”

“Never to adult stuff or to it belonging to the enemy?”

Prowl’s lips twitched into a light smirk. “Never to the enemy’s.”

“Well then, I think I know how we’ll be celebrating our ten mega-orn anniversary,” he answered seductively. “I’m ready to get out of here as soon as you are.”

Prowl finished returning the last datapad to its original place. “I believe I have everything we and Command can use.”

Jazz nodded and then ushered Prowl back up to the entry way. It took a little longer than Jazz wanted, since what he wanted was to be on the road, but he managed to hack into the main library feed. Using the cameras from the outside they made their way outside without detection from the guards.

When they were a block away Jazz opened up their commlink. ::For how much that outpost had, they picked the worst guards.::

::I suspect this outpost is being falsely classified as a minor one, even from their own soldiers, so anyone guarding it thinks it’s an antiquated storage post.::

::What dumb-afts.::

::It _did_ take us eleven mega-orns to find it.:: Prowl pointed out.

::That’s _so_ not my point. When do you think we’ll hit a good transmitting point on this route?::

Prowl’s tac-set performed several statistical iterations until it found the best spot near their route for secure transmitting, based on terrain and lack of enemy movement. He pinged a copy of the route-marked map. ::There.::

::Gotcha. Before I forget, are we supposed to host the outdoor party or attend it?::

::I think we’re supposed to host it.::

::How did that happen?::

::I don’t fully know; you’re the one who makes social plans.:: Prowl reminded Jazz, doing his best to sound light-hearted about the party plans with Jazz’s Decepticon team. ::If I recall correctly, you agreed so we could get them overcharged and see if you can get them on record saying certain things.::

::Oh, right!:: It suddenly snapped together in Jazz’s mind. ::They’ve been pressing me for a pre-bonding party. They’ve been pressing me for a lot of parties because they’re sure a fun mech like me can throw a great party. I forgot which cover party is actually in the works… I may unofficially be partying too hard with them…::

::I could run a statistical analysis on that for you. Are they thinking something like a bachelor party?::

::Nah, that’s later. I’ve been downplaying why we don’t have a date set. I promised them a pre-bonding party now, a bachelor party for whenever we do have a date. Also, please don’t give me stats on my partying or drinking. I’m pretty sure the results won’t look professional, even for an agent.::

::I have no base data for comparison on professional drinking/partying levels of an agent. What do they think a pre-bonding party entails?::

::Dunno. I’m still learning what Decepticon and Decepticon-sympathizers consider pre-bonding rites. They aren’t big in the whole bonding thing, and this party idea definitely has me scrambling.::

The pair brainstormed on some party ideas to try, what ideas to ask their “friends,” and what might they covertly try to get verifiable records of Decepticon intel. Partway into their planning they paused long enough for Jazz to confirm no enemy activity or frequencies and to transmit the heavily-encrypted data to their distant point-of-contact.

When done, even though it was for a charade, they continued planning their party on their fake bonding plans as they drove to their ninth mega-orn private celebration.

-

“We’re here!” Jazz announced when he transformed, a few paces short of the café’s door. Prowl transformed just behind him. “This place is so delicious, I think half the reason the Decepticons don’t bother with this town is to keep this place going.”

“That’s a bold statement.”

“It’s got some bold flavors.”

Jazz practically trotted inside the café, happy to celebrate his nine mega-orn like it was a real anniversary and not a cover one. “I’m paying.”

Prowl suppressed a fond smile, keeping in line with his persona. He considered pointing out that it all came from the same budget, given that they pooled their credits, but he let Jazz have his little fantasy of spoiling Prowl on a date. “I’ll find us seating in a moment. Now what’s their options?”

Jazz handed him a small menu as they waited in the short line. “I think you’ll like this.” He pointed to one with a picture. “I thought of you when I saw it last.”

“Then I’ll try it.” He handed Jazz back the menu and looked for a private booth. A couple was leaving one in the back and he waited until they and the busmech left before claiming it.

Jazz was almost on his heels, with two drinks in hand. “Scoot in.”

“There’s two benches.”

“But this is our anniversary.” Jazz used his hip to playfully push Prowl against the wall. He placed the drinks in front of their respective “owners,” before sitting down and entwining one of his peds with Prowl’s closest ped. “Happy anniversary,” he said with a kiss to Prowl’s cheek.

Prowl turned into Jazz’s shoulder to hide a very un-Barricade-like smile. “Happy anniversary.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Double” and “Dealer” is Doubledealer, who in some comics splits his name for his split personas. Or at least that’s what I got when looking for a Decepticon merchant that _wasn’t_ Swindle, since I needed a lesser-known name.
> 
> Fence = Usually a criminal role that connects different criminal groups together. Middleman for making introductions.

“There!” Jazz decreed with a satisfied smirk at their backyard’s décor. They didn’t have much of a backyard, given the desolate land and lack of free credits, but Jazz worked hard to give the impression of a pre-bonding party.

Prowl emerged from the inside and stood at the door to examine Jazz’s efforts. “That’s far better than I envisioned.” Most of the yard was taken up with several tables with chairs, all mismatched because their “friends” had been donating them for the party. Jazz managed to balance them out with strategically-colored stringers and open party favors to give it a more laid back appearance than one of restricted finances. To others, Prowl and Jazz were saving credits for a decent bonding ceremony, and therefore they couldn’t set a realistic date yet. In reality they spent their saved credits on the mission, such as out-of-town fuel for the generators to keep their home off the radar of the utilities company.

Close to the door but off to the side were tall tables of slightly varying heights, with half marked “energon snacks” and the other half marked “high-grade.” On the opposite side of the door, but pushed as far away from any hidden mics as possible, was Jazz’s sound system.

Prowl inquired, “Are you absolutely sure that the function of anything important won’t be impeded by that sound system? You do ‘amp’ up the noise quite loudly.”

“Yeah, we’re good. I set up acoustics to direct the music away from our walls and door.” Jazz pointed to structures Prowl didn’t recognize.

“Where did those come from?”

“Inside.” Jazz hummed a short tune as he tweaked the position of one of those acoustic structures, the hum being their quick and private non-commlink signal for meaning the hidden downstairs room. They may have dedicated private and heavily encrypted commlinks, but Jazz got them into the habit of not using them outside of actual missions.

“Ah, I see,” was all Prowl could verbally acknowledge. “You didn’t pull it from the walls, did you?”

“Nope, I had spares.”

 _“Where?”_ Prowl wanted to ask. He reserved that question for later, when Jazz could show him. Instead, he questioned, “When do you think they’ll get here?”

“Everyone’s about being fashionably late to social events, but like the same amount of ‘fashionably late,’ so they’ll probably all start arriving a half-joor after what I told them.”

At half-past the start time their front and back doors were steadily filled with Decepticons and Decepticon-sympathizers who considered Barricade and Meister as their friends. As Meister, Jazz had built a reputation of lacking much kindness, save for one mech. That mech’s waist was currently inside his wrapped-around arm.

Like Jazz, Prowl had built a reputation as Barricade as being often ice-cold, and as one who didn’t care for physical contact, save for one mech pressing Prowl comfortably into his side.

Normally they were more reserved than this, but for it being a pre-bonding party they were playing the part. Not only that, but it was serving as an excellent opening for a Decepticon they didn’t have regular interaction but they believed to be an Autobot traitor. Currently their suspect was going by the name “Dealer” but they believed him to be the Autobot named “Double.” Dealer was almost abnormally interested in them, and they were using that to their interests. “Who’s got the dreams of a nice bonding ceremony?”

Jazz answered, “I guess me, if I had to put a single name to it, but we’re both pretty much in agreement.”

“Indeed,” Prowl concurred. “We’re figure if we’re spending money on us and not supporting the cause, then we might as well make sure it’s worth it. Normally we spend our credits on Meister’s weapons or our job tools. We might be closer to picking a date if we had a good merchant for Meister’s things. Know of any?”

Dealer hummed thoughtfully, absently tapping his finger on his high-grade. “I know a few outside of town. I could make the introductions for some favors.”

Jazz squeezed Prowl. “Not if it delays our bonding ceremony,” he replied, keeping with his cover. “Now, if they’re cred-free favors, I might be willing to consider.”

“Of course,” Dealer practically purred, eager to have someone like Meister in his pocket. “I need some Autobot-sympathizers knocked off their game, for my own business needs.”

Meister’s visor glittered from excitement to deal some harsh realities to their enemies; Jazz’s energon heated to near-boiling conditions at the idea of doing any harm to his true alliance. “Sounds doable. If you’re leaving anything out, I’ll be figuring out the introductions myself, using your broken frame as the ice-breaker.”

“Relax. They’re non-violent business mechs. They’re encroaching on some of my consumable-goods.”

That could be dealt with, without resorting to permanent damage. The Autobot-sympathizers could be compensated soon enough by his Autobot contact, through veiled means, before anyone was threatened with starvation.

“Send me the details tomorrow,” he agreed. “Include a time for us to meet up. I’m not working on long-term credit. I want that introduction as soon as I handle your problem.”

“Sure, sure.”

The party slowly turned into something less informal until it was the usual rowdy Decepticon conditions. Prowl and Jazz worked together to cajole key Decepticons and sympathizers to talk freely by the door. Micphones in the back would pick up the chatter just fine, but the pair wanted crisp recordings specific to certain mechs.

“So anyways, I tell the dying ‘Bot…”

“I ain’t got no love for Soundwave, but…”

“Who the frag is the dumbwit Prime’s commanders, again? None of them got a thing on Lord Megatron and his commanders. Take for example, a couple of missions ago…”

The details would have sent tactical Prowl to one of their moons, had he not been playing a dirty tech analyst who shouldn’t understand half of what they said. Jazz was completely focused on making the most of their efforts. His application of his skills were pleasingly effective – right up until the front door alarm sounded.

Jazz scowled and excused himself. None of his expected guests were missing. It better not be another salesmech or Decepticon-funds collector.

“Yeah?” he answered without checking the peep in the door. His vocalizer died as soon as his cortex processed his visual input of his Autobot Special Ops contact, camouflaged as a Kaonite: Mirage.

“Meister,” Mirage greeted the mech with the slightly slacked jaw. The name reminded Jazz to snap his mouth together, and the hidden spy continued. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has been,” he played along. He had absolutely no idea why Mirage would be here – or what his sudden appearance was using for a cover identity.

Mirage was looking for a way to slip his cover identity to Jazz without it being obviously new information. He hadn’t yet synced his heavy encrypted commlink with Jazz, and while a comm. message might still work, Jazz’s lack of initiation suggested someone here had comm. detection capabilities.

A stumbling Decepticon made his way through one room and turned behind Jazz, intent on heading out the back door. Mirage spoke loudly enough to catch the overcharged mech’s attention, “I see you’re having a party. Who are your friends?”

Jazz followed the pointed indicator until he saw none-other than Dealer. “Hey, Dealer. Get over here. Say hi to my old friend.”

Dealer, far more overcharged than he meant, stopped his efforts by coming to an awkward halt. Pulling himself together enough to appear momentarily presentable, he carefully walked to his new potential contact. “Hey, I’m Dealer.”

“Hello, Dealer. I’m Delusion.” Mirage recognized the name from Jazz’s and Prowl’s reports.

“You another Decepticon-sympathizer?”

“Is there any other way for a Neutral to be?”

“Hah! Good answer. There’s no other way for a surviving Neutral to be.” Dealer’s optics leered at Mirage, his facial expression fumbling to keep from completing the look.

Mirage’s plating crawled but he managed to not outwardly react, using the gross mech to serve his immediate purpose. “What do you do?”

“Merchant and fence. You?”

“Merchant, specializing in equipment for certain operations.”

“Better not be my competition, or else we’re going to have to work some stuff out between us.” The leering was no longer being kept at bay in the slightest.

Jazz “cleared” his vocalizer with a static burst. “Dealer, how about we chat later? Delusion and I have much catching up to do.”

Dealer grinned. “Later. Hope you stick around, Delusion.”

Mirage didn’t answer, choosing to dismiss the mech with a helm-tip. Although the mech wouldn’t know it, that particular helm-tip was very rude to a Towers mech.

Once they were alone Jazz grabbed Mirage and dragged him off to his and Prowl’s berthroom. There was a second-set of stairs and he use it to lead Mirage to his safety zone. “Mirage, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to inform you that you and Prowl are getting pulled out in two deca-orns. It’s time to make plans for a clean departure.”

“Whoa, why are we being pulled and why so fast? Why are you telling me in person?”

“You two will be switching with me. The data you sent from your infiltration of the base indicates we need someone to watch the Decepticons in real-time. Since neither of you have invisibility capabilities, and both of you are needed back in your main jobs, our leaders decided to pull you instead of us three working together. We’re to spend the next three orns smoothing out the switch.”

“You aren’t even using a cover role like either of us,” Jazz argued, not carrying much that he wasn’t arguing with the right mech.

“No, they gave me an ID based on what makes the most sense for what you sent. We can go over it after you’re done with… what are you doing?”

“Some of the locals wanted to throw a pre-bonding party.”

Mirage scoffed. “Well, there’s something to be thankful for. Has that rigid strut of a mech gotten any better, or is he still pure aft?”

The comment jarred Jazz into remembering just how his mission started, what he’d heard about Prowl, and how they first met.

\---

_"You want what?! How dare you!"_

_Everyone in Tactical’s main monitors' area sharing a door to a meeting room jumped at the yelling that managed to remain well-enunciated despite the supposed sound-proofing. Their jumps were immediately followed by shock exclamations as they realized the enunciated words came from Prowl._

_The mech's name was fairly quickly making its way through the base troops despite not having an officer ranking designation in front of it. Both his brilliance in Tactical and his illiteracy in anything non-tactical were topics of occasional discussion. As was trying to parse through some of his reports or targeted memos._

_Another topic of discussion/gossip, over the tactician, was his near-monochromatic grey-scale paintjob matching his equally near-monochromatic temper of chilled intellect. Obviously the later was about to be considered an outdated opinion._

_The door opened and the doorwinger stepped passed the door before it finished clearing, and the tactician left with the sharpest of ped heel clicks. When the clicks were barely audible down the hall the second habitant of the meeting room stepped out: Tactical's Second-in-Command._

_There would be much renewed discussion about Prowl's temperament starting the klik Tact's SIC disappeared._

_-_

_"Come again? You want me to do what?"_

_Jazz's words were also heard by others, but not through walls and no one jumped. In the secured Special Operations room, going over mission general details in a one-on-one meeting didn't warrant commandeering a doubly-secured meeting room._

_Jazz's reaction didn't pull focus from others doing their job. A Spec Ops agent in a Spec Ops' room surrounded by other Spec Ops better not become anyone's focus, unless he was making an authorized announcement._

_His department's SIC nodded. "I know it's unorthodox, but the situation is too..."_

_"Unique?"_

_"We can go with that. The situation is too unique to go with orthodox or semi-orthodox means."_

_"But for at least five mega-orns? That's a long time to dedicate a pet tact-mech and an amazing agent over a 'maybe bad'."_

_"And if 'maybe bad' becomes a reality without the proper team, there won't be a base for that team to return to."_

_"Well if that's my options," Jazz muttered._

_His SIC grimaced. "I know. What do you know about Prowl?"_

_"What everyone forced to listen to gossip vines knows."_

_"Right. Well, here's more information that's not gossip." The mech tapped a file icon on the datapad. He followed up by tapping a different icon. "And here's unverified information - aka more gossip - from the other bases that haven't made it to our little vines."_

_Jazz stared at the file sizes in the folder properties. "I'm not going to like this assignment at all, am I?"_

_-_

_Five breems before their Decepticon repainting and partial-rebuilds, the two met for the first time. Had this been a semi-orthodox mission, they would have met sooner and for longer, but the mission report said to be ready to depart basically upon finish reading the report. With that in mind Jazz entered the room last, deliberately giving the mech he expected to be flustered a chance to be calm._

_He was both surprised and affirmed of his suspicions. Prowl was not flustered, but his mind was far from a state of calamity. It was his optics and closed-off body language that told Jazz, from Prowl's seated position in the one spot furthest from the door. The Praxian spoke with that chilled clip tone he was getting a reputation for having. If it wasn't flat, it was chilled. "You're Jazz?"_

_"Yup. You must be Prowl."_

_"Indeed, I must be."_

_Jazz remained standing, trying to gauge what was about to be his undercover future bondmate. A lot of the specifics were to be left up to them, which probably made this worse for them. Easier on those making this call, but harder on two strangers._

_"Got any hobbies you want to keep while we're undercover?" Might as well jump in with the usual questions for these types of missions._

_"Reading. You?"_

_"Music. Dancing, if we get a chance."_

_"I don't dance."_

_"... Ah." Then either they were going to have to be one of those couples big on compromises or they'd be having their first couple's fight pretty soon. Jazz wasn't skipping dancing on account of another mech’s comfort level. "Plan to make friends while we're there?" How one handled being deep within Decepticon territory was told through variety of ways, including if, how, and why they befriended Decepticons._

_"No. I haven't needed to search out friends before now, and reconnaissance through social ties is your area. Please, if you don't mind, I'd prefer silence. I'm still processing that my department has basically ordered me into an arranged bond with a mech I don't know beyond a name and occupation." Prowl rubbed his temples, upping the coolant to his fingertips to target the heated parts of his strained processor. The usual coolant supply wasn't enough._

_Jazz hummed, not pleased by the request but understanding. He knew that wasn't all of it, so he said the rest. "And with the orders we act as though we're fixing to be in the honeymoon phase."_

_"Exactly. I don't know you, but apparently I'm supposed to have known you like the other half of my spark for over two vorns."_

_Maintaining a quiet voice for the troubled mech, Jazz pointed out, "Then we shouldn't waste time getting to know each other as much as possible." He was getting a feel for the mech and he was sincerely hoping it was more of a temporary distaste than an ongoing theme._

_Prowl sighed, his vents all blowing out the hot air the adjacent coolant lines weren’t cooling fast enough. "I know. Just... just give me a breem, please. This is the first time I've seen you."_

_"Okay." Jazz sat down, as opposite of his 'future bondmate' as possible. "Ditto on the sight, thing."_

_After a breem of silence Prowl responded. "I’m not surprised you haven’t seen me, either. I don't leave the office enough, according to many. They think I don't know it, but there's a 'Prowl Sightings' board in the main Tact Room they keep hidden. It has two sides: one for the number of times I leave my office, one for when I'm seen doing something beyond refueling or going to the library."_

_Jazz snickered. "So what do you do about it?"_

_"I ignore it. I'm not modifying my behavior for others."_

_"Oh." This wasn't going to be the easiest of matches._

\---

How had he forgotten that he didn’t like Prowl eleven mega-orns ago? That their first mega-orn was a riddled with proof neither mech wanted to be in a fake relationship - _especially_ Prowl? “Right. He’s, uh… he’s been fine.”

Mirage lifted an optic ridge. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Jazz murmured, dazed a bit at the realization he’d gone too deep into his own cover. Just how deep had he gone under? How deep under had Prowl gone?


	4. Chapter 4

After the last of the local mechs left, Jazz and Prowl pulled in their stuff and gathered what others left behind. Jazz had convinced Mirage to come back the following late morning, giving Jazz time to break the news to Prowl. The spy wasn’t thrilled, given that he was to take over the home, but he agreed to give the pair their space for the night.

Jazz hadn’t told Prowl yet about Mirage. He knew he should, but all he could do was stare at Prowl, looking for signs that Prowl hadn’t made the same mistake as Jazz.

Watching the mech move around the loose gathering as though he were dancing, Jazz was reminded he taught Prowl how to dance.

\---

_“Step one, two, three – ow!”_

_Jazz hoped on one ped, pulling the other out from underneath’s Prowl’s. His instincts told him to protect his ped against its attacker but he remained calm, but he stayed calm to try not further aggravating the already aggravated mech._

_“I’m sorry,” Prowl muttered with noteworthy annoyance, mostly at his own incapability._

_Despite it being just under a mega-orn since their assignment began, Jazz was quite familiar with Prowl’s “you’re angering me” and “I’m angering me” sounds and companion wing-movements. They were soft sounds and light movements, ones that anyone not pretending to be a betrothed mech would miss. That soft growl and the inward flick of his doorwings said his displeasure was fully at himself._

_Jazz cycled his optics slowly and held back a frustrated sigh. Getting the mech to relax was beyond reasonably difficult. Maybe a much more gradual pace would help. “How about we try a different pace?”_

_“I’ll probably still fail. Perhaps I should read up on this, instead.”_

_“No! I’m not letting you_ read _how to dance when you have a willing partner here.” Well, he was going to claim “willing,” regardless of the truth. His plans were to get the mech to enjoy dancing enough to go with him to the bars, rather than Jazz’s only option being Decepticons and sympathizers. Prowl would hide behind his books if Jazz didn’t push._

_“I don’t know why you care. Clearly you were paired with the wrong mech.”_

_“I care because clearly you care. We’ll get this and it won’t bother you, ‘kay? We’ll have some fun together, I swear it.”_

\---

“Prowl?”

“Yes?” The mech’s doorwings perked up as his name, although his attention remained on fixing a knot tying a few items together.

“You remember the first time we went dancing?”

“Of course. I think I stepped on my own peds more than I did the first time I walked.”

“You stepped _on your own_ peds that much?”

“Doorwings. The initial parameters to my gyros were incorrectly set.”

“Heh,” Jazz chuckled, until he felt the impulse to playfully tease those doorwings. How much of that impulse was cover and how much was him?

He shouldn’t be having these problems. He was a veteran Special Ops agent; he didn’t make mistakes with his covers. “You want to read before we go to recharge?” he hadn’t seen Prowl read for fun in at least nine mega-orns. The mech was still a workaholic, but now that he remembered Prowl’s original intentions for relaxation, he couldn’t recall how close Prowl stuck to his plans. Changes from what the two of them used to be were good, but taken in light the first time they acted like a couple recolored those memories an entirely different tone.

\---

_Jazz left the transport first, his subspace filled and a large backpack on his back. "Come on, Barricade," he cajoled, trying his best to sound like a Decepticon-sympathizer but also one speaking to his future bondmate. It ended up sounding a tad terse and hardly held a speck of affection. Jazz was going to have to work on this at the housing unit. This was his first time with someone acting as more than a friend or lover._

_Prowl started walking out, his steps careful as he still adjusted to the new balance parameters for his new doorwing weights in the shape of winglets. Carrying his own bag didn't help. Jazz reached back and entwined his fingers with Prowl's. Immediately the mech stiffened and Jazz felt him trying to hide his internal reaction._

_"Meister, Barricade!" The both looked to the caller, and saw their contact, Blaster. Of course it didn't_ look _like Blaster, with the new coloring, facemask, and replaced chassis glass, removing all suspicion that he had symbiotes._

_"Hey, Jester," Jazz called back. He tugged at Prowl to get him moving again and received a falling Praxian in his arms._

_Prowl hissed quietly, "Don't!"_

_"Sorry," Jazz lamely apologized. He helped Prowl up and left his hand alone. By the end of the ramp Prowl mostly had the walk down, if only because his gyros were being challenged enough to force Prowl to get it or faceplant forward._

_Blaster's face crinkled much like a grin, and Jazz suspected the point in the facemask was to keep the jovial mech from giving away that he smiled too easily for this area. "How about we grab drinks on our way?"_

_Prowl questioned, "Shouldn't we be on our way straight to our new home?"_

_"Yeah, but everyone here drinks at one of three holes, so I thought I'd show you the best one to start."_

_Jazz knew that Blaster meant he was showing them where to start their mission once he left. From the way Prowl huffed but nodded, he presumed Prowl understood despite wanting to settle into their unit first._

_The trio made their way by ped to a nearby underground bar, larger than Jazz expected for the town. Blaster had apparently reserved a table in the corner. "Sit my friends, and tell me all about your upcoming ceremony. I already ordered some celebratory high-grade for us."_

_It was now or never, and since "never" was a black-mark on his record at not being able to work undercover as a couple, only "now" was an option. Jazz put his bag on the ground by their seating bench, helped Prowl put down his, held is intakes, and pulled Prowl down by the waist._

_The reaction wasn't instant, but it was there once the pair was seated. Prowl politely pushed Jazz off of him. "Not in public, Meister."_

_Blaster stared at the two. The mech's only purpose was to set up the housing unit, along with a few other mechs now gone. Blaster was acting as a realtor friend who found them a new home. As a "friend", a real friend of Jazz's, and as a handoff contact, it was his duty to make sure their cover was properly established. "Ah, don't worry, 'Cade. Everyone here's used to some amorous moves."_

_Jazz tried again, with careful reservations. Had things been going better, he would have nuzzled his contact's cheek with a short, Decepticon-like chuckle. Instead he did the chuckle but paired it with an arm around the shoulder. "'Cade's always been like that, especially in new places."_

_"Ah, well then I hope you settle in fast. Drinks are here," he announced when he saw a regular waiter bring them their three drinks._

_The outing progressed with Blaster making introductions to their next targets for information. With each introduction asking about the peculator nature of a long-term couple in Decepticon territory, Jazz tried keeping to their role and show mild affection. At the end of each introduction Prowl pinched his side if he did more than touch Prowl's shoulders._

_Finally they got to their housing unit, they set down their bags in their new berthroom (Prowl slower than Jazz), and Blaster gave them the grand tour. There weren't any problems until Blaster left to catch his transport back home._

_Prowl whirled around to face Jazz. "Did you have to keep trying for a kiss?"_

_"_ Yeah _. That's what mechs in long-term relationships do."_

_"I tried establishing a 'no public display of affection' cover with you. Why did you have to press it?"_

_Jazz snapped, "Why do you have to fight everything short of an arm over the shoulder?"_

_Prowl scoffed. "Trust me, I wanted to fight that, too. But I figured I had to compromise and give you something, especially with so many witnesses."_

_"Why is everything a fight for you? What happened to you that the slightest bit of affection has you ready to fight?"_

_Jazz expected an angry reaction. He got a cold stare and a declared, "I need a break." The Praxian turned away from Jazz and started moving towards the living room._

_"Hey, don't walk away!"_

_"I'm allowed to be where ever I want, so long as it doesn't conflict with the mission." Prowl gestured around the house. "So long as I stay inside this cage, I'm obeying that requirement."_

_Jazz balled his hands. "I don't like this either, but we have to practice being a couple or we'll blow our cover when I introduce you to my new_ enemy _teammates. I can't very well have a betrothed who at times_ seeps _disdain for me."_

_Prowl's shoulder sagged. "Fine. I'm going to go read and have some high-grade. When I'm calm enough, we can practice our cover. But before I'm overcharged enough to potentially make a fool of myself, know this: I'm only doing this to act my part."_

\---

That's right; they'd only gotten closer with the practice of pretending to be a couple. There wasn't anything between Prowl and Jazz until suddenly there was, courtesy of Barricade and Meister. He tried pinpointing a moment that might have felt real during the short transition, but nothing concrete came to mind.

Prowl shook his helm. “I’d rather celebrate with you,” he purred.

“Celebrate how?” Jazz almost stuttered.

“First by going over the data and putting together a report…”

Okay, good; that was very-original-Prowl like.

“…and then ‘facing until it’s time for recharge.”

 _That_ wasn’t original Prowl. Jazz felt his body tremor, both from need to the suggestion and the fear of his suspicions. “How about we just relax and read?” He couldn’t interface while Jazz questioned the Praxian’s state-of-mind.

Prowl’s optic ridges furrowed as he gave Jazz a long, quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just not feeling the mood.” He should have used the opening to tell Prowl about Mirage, but his vocalizer almost hitched when the words started forming.

His words were rewarded with a hurt flicker across the other mech’s face. “I see. I’ll work on these then and we’ll go to recharge.”

Jazz watched the mech turn around slowly, doorwings with the slightest sag, and his spark couldn’t take the dejected-looking posture. He crossed the room swiftly and wrapped his arms around Prowl’s waist. He pressed his body against Prowl’s back and kissed his helm. He murmured, “I just have some stuff on my mind. I don’t want to ruin an evening by not giving you the right attention.”

Prowl slowly twisted around as much as his spread doorwings allowed with a mech between them. The Praxian hugged the Polyhexian’s arm and lightly laid his helm against Jazz’s shoulder.

A wistful pain touched Jazz’s spark. He meant his words more than he should, that he did want to give Prowl an evening dedicated to the pair’s romantic entwinement. That was the problem – that and the very real budding proof that Prowl was about to get a rude awakening about them.


	5. Chapter 5

As almost always when they were in berth together, Prowl onlined first. He stretched and was filled with surprised at the lack of Polyhexian attached to his frame. Normally his partner, dead to the world when recharging in a secured location, had at least an arm captive. From the looks of Jazz's sprawled form, he hadn't recharged well.

"Nghhh..." Jazz groaned when Prowl bumped him, surprising the tactician a second time. "What time is it?" was the heavily recharge-slurred question.

Prowl rattled off the time before asking, "Why are you online? Usually I have to bring steaming energon or sound an alarm."

"Oh, uh," Jazz's memories hadn't really left him for the recharge cycle, but the images sharpened in his mind when the words wanted to spill out and tell Prowl before Mirage showed up on their doorstep. He clenched his jaw, not ready to ruin the movement even if he couldn't really enjoy it, either. "Just got some news, but maybe we can chat after morning energon?"

"How about over morning energon?"

"I'd rather we talk about our party discoveries, since we didn't really finish before recharge." Anything to give him time to prepare.

"I suppose that can work," Prowl wearily answered. Jazz's behavior had been stranger than usual, and he gave the mech a lot of leeway in that regard.

Prowl gave Jazz a quick kiss, noticing a delayed response, but he chose to wait for an answer he suspected was tied to this "news." He left to the small kitchen, something more akin to a kitchenette than an actual kitchen, and started prepping the energon.

Jazz groaned and threw his arms over his face. He considered planning conversation topics that'd aid him in breaking the news to Prowl, but the sounds of utensils and cookware clattering in the kitchen lulled him almost back to recharge, soothed by fond memories.

No! The memories were the problem. He couldn't trust them for these matters, but he did make one revelation during his tossing and turning: he couldn't trust them _yet_. In all his other assignments Jazz could trust his memories because he'd never failed to properly compartmentalize them. Without any memories firmly telling him which way to believe over his thoughts and feelings for Prowl, his first and foremost non-mission duty was to sort and re-compartmentalize everything.

Easier said than done, if what the sounds of the kitchen were doing to him were any indicator. Jazz groaned once more and then pulled himself out of berth.

"Morning," he greeted a second time with a smoother vocalizer. Prowl had the energon drip stopped and two cubes ready, based on the empty bags of additives on the counter. He grabbed the one closer to his preferred hue.

"Good morning. Did the couple of breems help you recharge some?"

"No, but getting up slow was nice." Jazz sipped his cube and then jumped into his proposed conversation. "So, did you think anymore about the stuff we know we got recorded from the party?"

"Hmm," Prowl hummed into his cube. "Yes, but I'm planning to soon go over what we missed in person since that interests me more. I thought we could spend the orn comparing it to our notes for validation. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I heard someone mention Shockwave's name."

This would be a good time to mention Mirage, that their orn was already claimed, but Jazz didn't want to yet face that piece of his reality. He had time, and it wasn't as pressing on his mind. "Fair enough. What... what did you think about the party in general?"

"It was fine. For being with our enemies, my urge to strangle them was remarkably low most of the time."

"Ha, yeah, I get that feeling way too often, too." A few more sips and then, "you know, this is the first time in a while we've had something celebrate us. What'd you think?"

"I thought it was as fun as possible, given the situation." Prowl smiled and rubbed Jazz's arm.

"Sure, but what about it being about _us_? You know, celebrating our _individual_ _covers_ about to become one shared spark, so to speak?"

That earned Jazz only a confused stare. "I'm sorry?"

"Just, ah, nevermind. I don't know what I'm talking about," he said with an awkward chuckle. He tipped his two-thirds-full energon cube to Prowl. "Still haven't processed my energon. So when's your next shift at the department?"

"I have a late shift this orn, actually. It's only a half-shift since I'm covering for another. Apparently I'll be filling in the tech position for when the bounty hunters come into the station." Prowl started going on about the new role and what it might mean for his datamining on their enemies, but all Jazz could do was stare at the lights behind Prowl's colored optics. Optics that belonged to Barricade, not Prowl. Since Prowl was forced to always wear those optics, did he see almost everything through his persona? Did he see Meister, Barricade's love, even when looking at Jazz?

His spark clenched. It was too easy to find all the hints and reasons Barricade was bleeding into Prowl. Even the teased desire to strangle enemies was Barricade's, since Prowl's tendencies were more of the book- and table-throwing variety. How much of those hints and reasons were reality and how much was his imagination was not something he couldn't begin to guess. Not without some private time to collect and redirect his thoughts, perhaps.

Jazz let Prowl go on about his own assignments down at the local Enforcers' tech division, small enough to give Prowl different access levels for whatever job he filled for the shift. Prowl enjoyed it better than he expected, given he never thought he'd enjoy being "an Enforcer's lackey." In fact Prowl was learning a whole new skillset in obtaining data, and the mech was enthused about picking what made tactical sense at the source rather than sifting through someone else's guesses.

So lost in enjoy Prowl prattle on about his take on datamining, where he used the practical application terminology correctly and where Jazz had to correct him, he almost forgot the looming reality. When his internal chronometer told him it was 2 joors before Mirage's promised arrival reality landed squarely on his shoulders, and he felt them sag under the imagined weight. He shouldn't wait until Mirage was paces away from the door to tell Prowl. Chances were Prowl would need some private thinking time as well.

"Prowl, there's something about the party I need to tell you."

"Yes? Did you remember something you overheard, or is this about that 'news'?" The Praxian's full inquisitive attention was on him, and Jazz nearly gulped extra air looking into those wrongly colored optics. How he wished for blue.

"It's that news I said I'd tell you after energon. I've been avoiding telling you something. I didn't want to deal with it, but we have to deal with it. I guess I'll just say it: Mirage stopped by during our party, briefly, and he's coming back in two joors."

Like Jazz before, Prowl's jaw went slack. Jazz waited before simply saying, "Yeah."

"Why?"

"My questions, too. Apparently we're doing such a good job that they think they know the next phase and that it needs an invisible spy. They want to bring us back, in two deca-orns."

Prowl's stunned expression wasn't getting any better. "Why?" As if that was a full question.

Jazz shrugged. "I don't know." He hesitated what seemed like ten kliks. "What do you think about that? About this assignment coming to an end, about us resuming being fulltime Prowl and Jazz?"

Prowl's thoughts immediately went to a near-forgotten memory, the last time he was asked that.

\---

_"Well, looks like this may be it," Jazz begrudgingly announced when he came down the stairs and plopped into his chair._

_"What's 'it'?"_

_"This assignment. We aren't selling this cover well enough for them to trust inviting us to group bonding time, and I can't get anything out from them during job assignments. I'm pretty sure one has ties to Shockwave, but he's not saying anything sober."_

_"Surely there's something you can do."_

_"Nope, not without you acting the part of a pre-bonded mech. Tell me, how do you feel about stopping all of this and resuming being fulltime Jazz and Prowl, with failure on our records?" the snide comment didn't bother hiding the passive aggressive words or tone._

_"Honestly, if it weren't for the marred records, I might enjoy it. Given that last bit, however, I'll endeavor to try better."_

_"Better at what, being friendly?"_

_"Better at pretending to love you."_

\---

_CRASH!_

The empty cube in Prowl's hand slipped and smashed on the ground. Both mechs flinched, but Jazz was the first to move. He grabbed a cloth and started cleaning up, mindful of the sharp glass. "Prowl...?" he asked when the tactician didn't move away or help. Jazz looked up and saw a dazed expression on Prowl's face, much like the one he probably wore when Mirage showed up and reminded him of his situation.

The cloth slipped from his hand. "Prowl...?" his voice was almost a whisper.

"I, uh..." for once Prowl's direct speaking style was at a lost, replacing his words with stuttered uncertainty. He shook his helm. "I think I should prepare for Mirage's arrival. I'm sorry for the mess, but do you think you could finish without me? I'd like to start processing those recordings now."

"No problem. Do you want me to join you?"

"No, thank you. It'll only take one of us to do a preliminary check." Prowl needed some time to clear his jumbled thoughts. Generally he didn't have those, and now he had them in spades, and half were stuck in place.

"Oh, well okay. Call me if you need me?" Jazz asked hopefully, worry visible on his face and the downturned lip components.

"I suppose I could," he murmured. "I'll see you in two joors," he continued, not really thinking about Jazz or the pained expression filling out in his crouched frame. He stepped away and walked carefully - not _fleeing_ \- to the secret door to disappear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Assuming we have voting for the P/J annual fic challenge (Wicked hasn't officially declared anything yet), this fic is technically not qualified since it didn't finish before 9/30. However, I'm not abandoning it so I'll still post :) Assuming AO3 doesn't do something since this has a missed deadline. If something happens and I can't post anymore, I'll modify _this_ author note.~~
> 
> UPDATE: Wicked says the above isn't true. Voting going on now.
> 
> Like I said in the beginning, the writing block, and therefore also muses, just haven't been cooperative for some time and still aren't. I need new muses (you hear that, Jazz?!).

"Now, _here_ is where I'll start taking over for Jazz, but first as an equipment and weapons supplier instead," Mirage elaborated as he pointed to a timeline image he pulled up on the big screen downstairs. "At some point before you leave we'll need to convince them to give me a chance to try the weapons as one of them on an assignment. The goal is that I'll be a supplier to watch Dealer, and be a merc - or agent, or whatever they call them here - to fill in for Jazz's old assignments. I can use my invisibility during missions when they get near Shockwave's territory or buildings and investigate some of those blueprints you found."

"I get it, but I still disagree with it," Jazz complained. "Getting pulled out halfway through the mission is serious slag."

"I concur," Prowl replied.

"I'm sorry that's the decision made by Command, but it's one we must abide by."

Prowl muttered, "Only because we're cut off from communicating out while you're here."

Jazz caught Prowl's point and spoke normally. "If you're here, who's taking over your post back at base?"

"For now Blaster. He may switch with an Ops agent later, I don't know."

"Well that's good news," Prowl said, a lot more neutral in tone than Jazz would've thought. There was some satisfaction that Jazz's efforts to teach Prowl how to socialize with the enemy had improved his overall social skills. That or Prowl saw Mirage as the enemy, which would be a very Barricade thing to do. Jazz hoped that was just his imagination running away on him. Primus knew it already had.

“If you’re both ready, I’d like to start planning details. Considering the amount of work Command wants me to accomplish, I want to get everything as set as we can with the information we have now.”

Prowl pointed out, “It sounds like this may be more between you and Jazz. In the interest of time, I think it’s best if I continue going through the video and audio recordings. Sound fair?”

“Fine by my estimates,” Mirage agreed.

Prowl didn’t think to wait for Jazz's say and left. When he was a mere step away from the secret door he heard ped falls and turned to see Jazz.

“Hey, Prowl,” Jazz began and then immediately faltered. What was a good opening? Really there was only one. “This sucks, having our assignment taken from us because we can’t be invisible the same way as Mirage. We were plenty invisible when we broke into that outpost.”

“And yet this is our reward.”

“We could still get Dealer.”

“Come again?”

“Dealer doesn’t require invisibility to be caught as a traitor. We just need to expose him as Double and then we can take him back with us.”

Prowl frowned. “Won’t that expose our identities, to take a prisoner? That would also expose Mirage.”

Jazz snickered fondly. “Prowl, I know how to expedite a prisoner without raising anyone’s suspicions.”

“What will you tell Mirage?”

“Nothing yet. Raj has enough on his mind. Maybe after you finish your scanning, you can meet with me and we’ll talk it out?”

“I’m planning to work until it’s time for me to leave for my shift.”

“Oh.”

“But maybe afterwards?”

“Okay, I can have energon ready.”  Jazz wanted to talk about a lot of things, even though he also wanted to talk about nothing.

“What about Mirage? Surely he’s staying here now.”

‘ _Curse Mirage_ ,’ Jazz thought. “I’ll see about getting him to work on whatever you don’t finish or recharging in our guest room by the time you get back.”

-

Prowl was mentally deep into his scanning efforts when he came across audial recordings he wish he hadn’t. A contact that simply went by the nickname "Midnight" was talking about the first time he met Barricade and Meister, which was coincidently the same time Jazz and Prowl first met Blaster for their assignment.

\---

_Prowl felt trapped with Jazz's arm on his shoulder, back to the wall, Blaster watching him, and now mechs were starting to come by and say their hellos to "Jester" and his friends. Not that he would ever tell Jazz, but the gesture of putting his arm on Prowl's shoulders was too reminiscent of an old relationship he'd prefer to forget more than he'd like to be off of this assignment._

_"Hey Jester," said some Neutral in dark blue tones, "how's it going? Who's the newbs?"_

_"These are the friends I was getting a home set up for. This here is Meister and this is Barricade. Meister, Barricade, this is Midnight."_

_"Hey," Jazz said with a lazy predator smile. Prowl opted for the silent nod._

_"I hear you two are a pre-bonded couple. Must be nice."_

_"It's nice to find the other half to my aft-kicking spark," Jazz said with a visor wink. He tightened his arm around Prowl's shoulder and brought him in for a helm-side kiss. A kiss that made Prowl's spark feel warm for all the wrong reasons. His ex used to do a similar thing, but for helm nuzzling since he had a faceplate. Having to work in a job that supported his and his ex's old professions, and having to be forced into a relationship that was already showing shared traits with his ex was not helping his orn. It didn't help that his first "relationship" since that breakup was this one, a forced falsehood with a mech he barely knew._

\---

Prowl thought hard about that time and realized Jazz still put his arm around his shoulders, still kissed or nuzzled him on the side of his helm.  Yet until now he'd completely forgotten about the link between Jazz and Chromedome, or at least had forgotten it for nine mega-orns. How did he manage to do that? Did Jazz manage to make it happen, or did Prowl just get too swept up in being baggage-free Barricade?

He nearly allowed his mind to wander down that thought path, but his tac-set rejected the change in data. Prowl shook his helm, dispelling the hold his memories had on him. Right now he had to be precise and efficient. He no longer had an open-ended mission, and he liked Jazz's idea of taking down Dealer by the time they left.

New plan set in mind, he restarted going through the recordings, looking not only for intel but for Dealer specifically as well. He looked through and documented everything he could until his alarm chimed for the warning to leave for work.

::Jazz, please come downstairs,:: he comm'ed his mission partner.

He heard Jazz's steps coming down the stairs at an unusually relaxed, sedated-like pace.

"Is something wrong?" they both asked when they saw each other.

Prowl answered first. "I thought I'd spare a moment before leaving so we could talk more about your Dealer plan. I put together several audio and video files you should comb through and see what you can add. I put notes on my tac-set's outputs on some of our on-going strategies, now that we're drastically speeding up the clock."

"Sounds good. I got Mirage going over studying notes in his room." Jazz's helm swept the couch subtly. "May I sit?"

"Of course, this couch isn't that small." As soon as he heard it he cringed. "I mean... I have to leave anyways." That was not what he meant, but he didn't quite know his own intentions, either.

"Oh. Well, thanks." Jazz sat down almost as soon as Prowl stood. "I'll see you when you get back and I've gone through your intel pool. And maybe... perhaps we can talk about other things?"

His intakes hitched. "That's something we should probably do. We'll talk soon. Don't forget the energon you promised." Prowl rocked on his peds for a moment, so used to getting a kiss, but he stopped himself and simply left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd write Chromedome into a fic, even just as a ref.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muses are slowly returning! Mostly just Prowl right now, who usually just waits for muse!Jazz to shut up so he can correct him or add the “tactically sound” version of muse!Jazz’s ideas.
> 
> (I’m excited by this, okay?)

Prowl’s cover job was opposite of Jazz’s, and depending who’s asked, either too much like the lower ranks of his actual profession, or the two held virtually nothing in common. His cover job was mostly office tech to the local Enforcers, but also one who did certain favors for Meister’s friends or the occasional dirty Enforcer. It lacked the Special Ops glamor of Jazz’s role, but once Prowl got used to his own role he started actually enjoying it.

Sitting at a desk alone gave him access to multiple databases for all local and neighboring territories. In the eleven mega-orns that Prowl had the job he’d spied _a lot_ of Decepticons and sympathizers through databases, under the easy disguise of investigations. Prowl used the data to build theories and tactical plans for themselves or for handoff to Command.

That was actually how Dealer showed up on their radar as a potential traitor, when he kept popping up on Enforcers’ reports and cameras at the territory fringes facing Autobot-held regions. Prowl obsessively monitored those areas, probing the camera feeds anytime he had a free moment. Jazz’s subsequent sleuthing around those parts and Prowl’s increased cyber-stalking lead them to the theory Dealer was also Double.

Had any of Prowl’s current activities been something he discovered someone else committing in his own Enforcer orns, he would have the mech either arrested or written up in so many different ways that the offender wouldn’t begin to know how to unfreeze his job. There was a certain amount of “perverse joy” (as he told himself) in breaking the rules to further their chances of winning, but that joy was something he’d _never_ tell anyone. He’d risk petting Ravage before exposing his secret.

Alone and by the door rarely used by anyone, Prowl did everything he could to throw himself into an invigorated investigation of Dealer. His thoughts were not to split off and question Jazz and him, or how much he could trust himself.

Unfortunately for Prowl, as soon as the stray thought, ‘ _don’t think about Jazz; just keep working_ ’ crossed his mind, he thought of Jazz.

\---

_“I loathe my job,” Prowl complained as they both worked at the downstairs computers. “All I do is sit there and try not to not look like I’m eavesdropping.”_

_“Why are you eavesdropping when you have everything at your fingertips?” Jazz asked, his legs hanging over his chair’s opposite arm and his peds idly kicking. Prowl actually wanted to complain about Jazz’s lack of professional attention to going through his own data, but they’d finally come to some agreement toward attempting_ _civility towards one another._

_“I thought that was why they picked this town for our cover, of all the local towns. You can get contract work that gives you mobility and underworld connections to see if reports of the weapon have any merits, and I can watch for clues from the other side of criminal activity. When I can’t I’m supposed to watch for anything that the Autobots can use for their purposes.” There certainly wasn’t anything else attractive about the town, from Prowl’s Autobot mindset._

_“Yeah, but they didn’t order you to do your part by sight and audial only. You’ve got every law-based and Decepticon-detention-based data mines available to you. Plus some other stuff. I know you love compiling data. Go digging for some data from mechs we or Command can exploit.”_

_Prowl tilted his helm. “Like what?”_

_The seemingly-bored mech actually flipped around so that his peds were firmly planted on the ground as he looked at Prowl. “Don’t you know how to investigate criminals?”_

_Prowl huffed. “Of course!”_

_“Then think of everyone one of_ them _– ,” Jazz started with pointing to the exterior wall to indicate that he was speaking of all the enemies within their vicinity, “ – as criminals. They’re all part of a criminal organization. A mob empire. How do you take down the mob?”_

_“Assuming you mean without anything that can be used as a shortcut by charging someone of real rank, taking down the illegal organization would mean working from the bottom up.”_

_“And_ that _means…?” Jazz prompted._

_“Go after the weak links of the peds-on-the-ground workers. The ones that collect debts, break struts, sell illegal product, or perform illegal services. Those are usually the ones willing to turn over on someone who’s squeezing them from within.”_

_“Then do that. Look for the weak links of swimmers at the bottom of the sea. Or maybe in this case, someone with a lot of arrest records.”_

_“To what end? All I can do is go through records. I can’t do anything beyond find a potential mech that might be convinced to give us something more of value.”_

_“And I’ll use that to go after them. Meister’s getting a name for himself. You find me a mech and all I pretty much have to do is show up, click my claws with a mad smile, and I’ll probably have something. Then we can decide if I follow it up, or if you do and then I take your results to go do whatever instead.”_

_“So a partnership in hunting down criminals while we investigate the weapon?”_

_“Sure. Sounds fun. You be the processor, I’ll be the muscle cables and gun. We could be like a secret justice group, with you working from behind the shadows. How’s that sound?”_

_When he thought about how that sound, Prowl realized that maybe Jazz wasn’t so exasperatingly different from himself._

\---

Prowl’s thoughts were interrupted by the enunciator for the first of the double door. A bounty hunter was actually here? Prowl quickly pulled up the screen for processing anything a bounty hunter might have or ask.

When he saw who it was coming through the door, dragging a bound mech behind him, his temperament automatically changed to cold annoyance. That wasn’t entirely due to maintaining his cover. “Lockdown.”

“Barricade. How goes it?”

“Who’s that?” Prowl wouldn’t make small talk with this bounty hunter unless necessary. Usually “necessary” included an important bounty. The mildly-squirming mech he was dragging wasn’t a face on Prowl’s “Mech of Interest” list.

“Just some bail jumper.” With a ‘thud’ the green mech flung the recaptured prisoner at the desk. Prowl put in a request for an Enforcer to come pick him up. “Still with that small silver one?”

“Yes.” Prowl handed Lockdown a datachip authenticating the capture. “Goodbye, Lockdown.”

Instead of grabbing the chip and leaving, Lockdown grabbed it and then leaned over the desk counter. “This one actually put up a fight that would’ve been decent, if he’d had proper training.”

Prowl offered only a deadpan stare, silently willing his visitor away so he could return to his real plans.

“You got proper training on how to handle yourself? I know your… pre-bond mate… is quite busy and you’re often stuck behind a desk. One doesn’t always knows when they’re going to need combat skills.” Lockdown kicked the mech by his peds as an example.

Prowl’s thoughts flickered back to training Jazz and he had in their backyard. “Meister trains me well. Do you have any other reason for being still being here?”

“I’d love to see you fight. I bet you’re capable of being real nasty, if what’s-his-face is doing any decent of a training job.”

Prowl knew Lockdown was faking not knowing Meister’s name. He truly didn’t understand the exact intent behind Lockdown’s words, but he knew the basic purpose of these types of conversations. “Can the act, Lockdown. What do you want?”

“Fine, fine. I hear there’s a traitor making runs to the Autobots, according to my main local client. I know you sit there doing your thing of checking everyone for dirt – don’t try protesting,” Lockdown immediately shut down the tech with the half-open mouth. “It’s my job to know what everyone else is doing, too. How else do you think I hunt down my prey? Problem is that for all I know, I don’t know who’s foolish enough to be a filthy traitor.

“I know you’re trying to work up credits for that ceremony. I want to hire you to hunt down the traitor.” Lockdown held up a new datachip, this one carrying credits. “Half now, half on delivery of a name.”

Prowl took the datachip and checked it. The credits weren’t insufficient. “What’s the catch?”

“I want you to go through your process in detail with me at the delivery so I can see if I agree with how you got that name. Preferably somewhere comfortable where we can’t be observed by the traitor, like a private room.”

Prowl wasn’t naïve enough to miss the intent behind those words. Still, he was gone in two deca-orns and he could easily delay that long. Basically he’d be ripping off Lockdown.

Then again…

“Fine.”

-

Prowl drove slowly to his door, not wanting to have a potentially emotion-laden conversation. Even though he hadn’t mentioned about his sudden conflictions, and Jazz hadn’t said anything beyond the “stuff on his mind” comment last night, there was a heavy cloud of unease that settled between them sometime between when he onlined this morning and when Mirage arrived. Part of that cloud was Prowl’s uncertainty of Jazz’s comment and his distant behavior before and after saying it, but for all he knew those words and behaviors were solely about Mirage.

Did he want an answer about Jazz’s thoughts behind those words and actions? Perhaps not, or at least not yet, given his own hesitations about their situation. Maybe he could fully utilize his reputable skills in excessively talking a point and go over his plan with Dealer in excessive detail until Jazz offlined from boredom.

His first detection upon entering the home was the smell of freshly warmed energon. He followed it to the living room and found Jazz waiting for him. “Hey,” the sitting mech greeted.

“Hello, Jazz. How faired your orn with Mirage?”

“Long. Lots of details and planning. You and I can go over it tomorrow when he’s up.”

“He’s recharging?”

“He’s in the guest room. I’m not going to try and spy on him and see if he’s recharging.” Jazz used his ped to tap the only full cube. “Here’s yours.”

“Thank you.” Prowl fetched it and sat down opposite of Jazz. He started, “I have a plan about Dealer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There was an unexpected but very usable conversation at work. You recall Lockdown?”

Jazz frowned. “Yeah, I most definitely recall that fragger.”

“He wants to hire me to find a _Decepticon_ traitor. I said yes.”

“This better be one pit of a plan.”

“What better way to first trick Dealer into exposing himself as the traitor by putting the fear of detection of him by someone else? Have him think we’re his best chance at avoiding Lockdown, maybe by hiding something here he’ll think a couple of Decepticon sympathizers won’t recognize. Then we’ll use his fear to further trick him into coming with us to start a new life away from Lockdown, in whatever distant neutral town we’re claiming will be our new home.”

“Huh.” Jazz sipped his drink before setting it back. “You make it sound so easy. My plan was to set up a fake contract with him and me and then have something go wrong such that he tries using his Autobot contacts to get him out. I had a few ideas on what went could go wrong.”

“We can still do something like that. Perhaps we can try both ideas, and see which he goes for. How are we going to innocently slip it to Dealer that Lockdown is hunting him?”

“Hmm, okay. We can work with that.” Jazz rubbed his hands together. “Before we delve into making nefarious plans, do I need to know anything else about Lockdown? Was there anything else said?”

“Nothing of importance was said. He had a bound bounty who tried fighting back and asked me if I knew how to fight back.”

“I both do and don’t want context why he’s asking you if you can fight back while standing over some tied up shmuck.”

Prowl shrugged. “He brought it up after I asked him to leave. Then I told him to stop the act and tell me what he wanted, in which he explained about a theory of a traitor.”

“I still don’t like him talking to you about fighting back, but it’s not like I have to worry about it for much longer.”

Worry about it? He didn’t tell Jazz about the private room comment, but perhaps there was more he was overlooking. Prowl asked, “Am I missing something?”

“Usually. For now let’s focus on planning out Dealer’s fate.”

Prowl finished most of his energon and set it down to unsubspace a datapad. “Alright. Let’s begin with how we’re slipping the information to Dealer without being too obvious in why we're telling him.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Jazz took the datapad, his fingers barely grazing the tips of Prowl’s fingers. Both held back any outward reaction, a silent testament to each that the other wasn’t the same as they were only two orns ago.

Jazz continued speaking and Prowl continued listening, although a small part of his mind tried figuring out his exchange with Lockdown over his training history.

\---

_“You have the worst square stance. How did you get on an Enforcer payroll?”_

_“I do_ not _have the worse square stance,” Prowl argued to the mech standing near him, nitpicking his combat stances. While the words were veiled as meaning how did Barricade get hired by Enforcers, Prowl knew it was meant as a question of his Enforcer past. He refused to answer._

_“I suppose it’s not the worst I’ve seen, but it’s up there. Come on, Cade, you can bend those knees straighter. You’re bowing them out.” Jazz stepped behind Prowl’s squared-off posture and bend down to push Prowl’s knees straight from the outside._

_Prowl instantly felt weird about having Jazz touching him from behind, especially since it wasn’t a logical position to put himself, but he continued maintaining their promised civility. Besides that promise, this training was to make sure that Prowl could handle himself if any of Jazz’s “mob hunting” efforts ended up with someone going after Meister’s mate. So far Prowl was proving himself embarrassingly rusty on moves and stances he rarely used even when acting as an Enforcer._

_His embarrassment over his stance was rapidly replaced by a new source when he discovered why Jazz put himself behind Prowl. The saboteur grabbed Prowl by the hips and nudged him into a tighter resting position._

_“Hey!” Prowl snapped and jumped up, swatting the hands away._

_“Hey what,_ Barricade _? Can’t handle keeping it clean with_ Meister’s _hands are touch you for practical purposes?”_

_Prowl’s retort died on his glossa as soon as he heard the emphasized names. He wanted to toss something at the annoyance of an undercover couple mission. “Just don’t startle me.”_

_“Can do. Fall back into stance.”_

_He did as instructed, making sure to move his knees and hips into alignment without Jazz’s prodding to get it right._

_“Good enough for now. Arm positions: what are you most comfortable with?”_

_“Isn’t fists by the hips the usual with this position?”_

_“That’s one common position. This position relies heavily on either defense or fluid movement, going in and out of position. Since I think it’s pretty stupid to hold a position that makes your face easy to hit, unless you are just a terrific blocker and waiting for your opponent to exhaust himself, I’m still aiming to teach you fluid movements. That means your arms need to be ready to move. For this session, assume that means arms up in basic combat position.”_

_Prowl obliged, putting his left hand up into blocking position and pulling his right hand back as a fist._

_“Now slide forward with your right ped while driving your right fist.”_

_“I don’t need such basic lessons.”_

_“After that square stance I just saw, I can’t be certain of anything.”_

_Prowl grunted but went ahead and slid forward while punching the air. For good measure, he transitioned backwards into a sideways defensive position, behind his left hand. “Basic attack, basic defense.”_

_Jazz stepped in front of him and took a mirroring position. “Good,_ Cade _. Now let’s see how you handle a basic attack.”_

_Did Jazz emphasis Barricade’s nickname to remind Prowl that an Enforcer tech shouldn’t know how to fend off an attack? Barricade was Meister’s future mate, so it was logical to say he knew something on the matter. The emphasized name had Prowl second guessing how he was supposed to perform while out in the open. He started pinging Jazz for help on undercovers and fight capability, but Jazz’s slide forward stopped him short._

_Instinctively Prowl countered the punch with a block and Jazz struck again when his hand bounced, sticking to his right. Prowl started worrying but kept blocking. What if Jazz threw a left hook? Would Barricade know how to defend against that? Should Barricade throw a punch now? He didn’t know how this worked!_

_So wrapped up in his own helm he miss-timed a block and Jazz’s fist sailed past it, striking a glancing blow off of Prowl’s cheek. The hit wasn’t much but it startled Prowl. He jerked backwards and froze, entirely confused about his cover at this point._

_“I’m sorry!” Jazz stepped forward and hastily-but-gently grabbed Prowl’s jaw. He brushed the cheek with a careful thumb. “When I got past your hand I tried pulling back and stopping before I caught you. Are you okay?”_

_“Yes,” Prowl murmured, surprising himself. The warmth of Jazz’s thumb against the small ache felt nice. It’d been long since anyone but a medic touched his face._

_Jazz’s face was so close… and then it was closer. The smaller mech leaned up and gave it a small kiss. “I’m sorry, Cade. Better now?”_

_Suddenly Prowl wanted nothing more than for Barricade to be real, just to make this moment real._

\---

Prowl cycled his optics.

“Plan too crazy for you?” Jazz asked. He lightly tossed Prowl’s stylus he’d been using to doodle his proposal. “It’s a little crazy for me, too. I kinda like it.”

“That’s not… Yes, it is a tad crazy for me, but I’ve come to expect that of you.”

“Maybe we could take a little break?”

“Agreed,” Prowl said before thinking what a break might mean.

Jazz sat back and leaned against the couch’s backing until his position was comfortable to watch Prowl. “So, I was thinking maybe we could talk about you dropping your energon this morning after I told you about Mirage? I’ve been wondering why.”

He glanced down briefly at the two empty cubes and wished he could excuse himself and by saying he wanted more.

“It’s just that after you broke it, you started acting funny and took off. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know why. Wasn’t sure if it was me.” The corner of Jazz’s moth quivered like a persistent twitch until he clamped his jaw tight.

Prowl stared, slightly stunned by the revelation that he’d left Jazz feeling doubtful. He blurted out, “What did you mean last night about having ‘stuff on your mind’? Is it why you were acting strange?”

“What? Like what?”

“You recharged by yourself, in essence.”

“I didn’t recharge much at all. Mirage’s news kept me up.” Jazz’s peds shifted, and Prowl detected a minor discomfort. A lie? Surely Jazz was better at avoiding detection. “Why did you drop your cube?”

“I was also reacting to Mirage’s news.” Prowl resisted hard against shifting. “I couldn’t believe they’re pulling us off the mission, after we find significant proof and usable intel on the weapon. Our reward is to not see it through?”

“I know, I’m so used to finishing these missions. Being forced to duck out so close to the good part, all because I can’t turn literally invisible.”

“Exactly.”

Both of mechs stared at each other, questions on the tips of their glossa but fear of having to provide answers for the other’s queries keeping each in check.

Jazz’s visor dimmed. Prowl asked, “Are you tired? I doubt you got recharge while I was away.”

“No, I didn’t.” Jazz rubbed his optics. “Had to make sure Mirage was too worn out to stay up. I’m tired, yeah. Maybe we could get some recharge now and chat some more later, in our berthroom, when Mirage is getting ready for the orn? Believe it or not, that former noble likes to lightly polish every orn he can. He’s not going to like his assignment here.”

Prowl hesitated. “I should start an analysis downstairs on my findings, making sure we aren’t forgetting anything. Now we’re down to one deca-orn and eight orns to trick someone twice, we should make the most of our time.”

“I guess.” Did Jazz look a tad crestfallen?

Whatever Jazz felt was fleeting, gone and replaced with a neutral expression. “Be seeing you later in berth?”

Prowl wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he was staying up all night working out a plan, like he used to do, before Jazz forced him to break the habit.

 _Break the habit…_ break the lifelong habit of Prowl.

He wanted to see how it felt, to behave like he did before Jazz. “Perhaps,” he lied.


	8. Chapter 8

“Mph,” Prowl grunted. Something was blowing on his audial sensors – or rather, blowing on the one pointed up. “Great,” he grunted again.

Prowl pushed himself upward until he was sitting on the couch, dully realizing he’d fallen into recharge. The computer’s fan woke him up as a particularly intense data-crunching kicked the fans up a notch.

‘ _So much for my plans to stay up the entire recharge cycle._ ’ He frowned, looking around and spotting a datapad he was working in conjuncture of the computer doing its part. Most of his workload was done, but not all of it. ‘ _This does not bode well for me for returning to work at a base._ ’

While his plan was to fake accidentally falling into recharge, if pressed by Jazz or Mirage (for whatever reason the spy might ask), actually doing it was a bit of a personal letdown. All the more proof Jazz had deeply affected him beyond his first expectations of the mission, but he wasn’t ready to lay blame.

He grabbed the datapad, intent on resuming where he left off. He’d barely powered the device back on when he heard from the top of the stairs, “Prowl?”

“I’m down here.”

Light steps told him Jazz wasn’t dawdling on making his way down. The steps paused and Prowl turned to look at Jazz. “Yes?” he asked.

“Did you recharge down here? You got sleepy optics.”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh. Unfortunately because you meant to come upstairs?”

Prowl stared and swore he could see hope behind that visor. Impulsively he lied, “Yes.”

“I missed you too.”

Prowl’s spark fluttered at those words, but Prowl pushed it down. “At least I’m further on plans with Dealer. Is Mirage up?”

“He’s not yet out of his room, if that’s what you mean.” Jazz skipped a few steps and hopped onto the couch. “So what did you figure out?”

Prowl turned to the computer, intent on fixating on work and not the warm frame near his. Making sure this plan worked meant having to force Dealer’s hand carefully so it timed with their departure. Their plans demanded his full attention. Right?

“This starts with you meeting up with him…”

\---

Meister waited outside Dealer’s favorite café as the blue mech made his way to the lounging form, his favorite drink in hand. “Glad to see you make it, Meister.”

“Good seeing you, too.” Jazz pushed off and the pair started walking down the semi-busy street. “How’ve you been? I was a little surprise you put off our meeting a full orn. Spent the orn hung over?” he referred back to the plans during the party. It worked out in Jazz’s favor.

“Not that bad. I couldn’t squeeze you in between business deeds. I’m better now that you’ve agreed to take care of a problem for me. Ready to hear the details?”

“Always.” Jazz listened, slowly allowing himself to become more agitated on the outside. It wasn’t an act, given how Dealer wanted the Autobot-sympathizers handled, but that was the reality behind it and not his story.

Eventually Dealer took the bait. “What’s got you all twitchy?”

“I am _not_ twitchy.” For good measure Jazz added a fake claw-clicking twitch.

“Fine, what are you not twitchy about?”

“Lockdown visited Barricade. He was hitting on him, even!”

“The guy regularly toys with the pretty ones that got information. Not to mention he likes to throw others out of their comfort zone. It’s how he gets mechs to do things for him. Did he pretend to forget your name?”

Jazz paused. “That wasn’t mentioned, but a couple of times before Cade did say that.”

“See, he’s just trying to trick Cade. Pretty sure I told this to you before, but it’s an act. He probably just wants a dirty tech to be some side action for him, so he can later blackmail Cade into giving him all the information he wants.”

“That’s comforting.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to fear.”

“I actually meant that,” Jazz explained. “So long as he doesn’t turn dangerous, he’s never going to get my Cade’s interest. Not even for the creds.”

“Creds?”

“Yeah. He gave Cade some creds to track a traitor.”

Dealer stopped suddenly. “Traitor?”

“Yeah, apparently there’s some mech doing runs to the Autobots and he wants Cade to find the mech. I’m not sure how I feel about Cade doing it. On one hand, it’s enough creds to help out with the ceremony; on the other hand, he wants a private explanation with Cade on how he got the name of the traitor. Private conversation being in a private room.”

“He’s got a name of the piece of slag pretending to be our ally?”

Jazz swore he heard the coolant rushing in Dealer’s systems before the mech spoke. ‘ _Too easy._ ’

The silver mech shook his helm. “Not yet. This just came our way. What do you think? Will you be able to get a discount on my weapons enough to make up the difference, or should Cade take the job?”

Dealer stared at him, his expression barely showing an internal struggle. The traitor probably thought that Meister saw him as calculating out the discount savings and being torn on what to say. Jazz knew that Dealer was torn on advising mechs like Meister and Barricade to help Lockdown hunt him.

Long enough, perhaps even too long, Dealer finally spoke. “ _Weellll_ … having never seen your budget or current finances, I can’t tell you whether or not I can help you enough to turn down credits. Maybe we can help each other out. Keep me in the loop with this traitor business and I’ll keep an optic out for anything more serious than mischievous flirting.”

“Why?”

“If the traitor turns out to have business, then maybe I can take over. The non-Autobot part, of course,” he quickly explained.

That allowed for all sorts of options in getting him to flee the town in a manner they wanted. “Works for me.”

\---

Jazz watched Prowl talk with Mirage, going over what he knew about Shockwave’s weapon from his watchful cyber-optic. Some of it Jazz didn’t fully know, having trusted Prowl and not needing it explained to him like Mirage did. Handing everything over to Mirage wasn’t fair to the mech, but that was the cost of his invisibility. Sometimes he was wanted by everyone, but sometimes he was wanted by no one. Now was in a way an example of both, him being given the assignment alone.

What Jazz wanted was to get closer to Prowl and make up for having to sleep in a lonely berth. Despite the clear need, Jazz wasn’t sure on its core reasoning. He searched his memory for the first time he and Prowl recharged comfortably.

\---

_“You sure it doesn’t hurt?” he asked._

_“You barely grazed my cheek. I’m fine.” Prowl absently brushed his cheek that Jazz hit during training, making his way to his half of the berth. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a tad more upset than I expected.”_

_“I feel bad, okay? I didn’t tell you what to expect for training your undercover ID.” Jazz did feel awful for forgetting something so basic. He’d gone through so many identities with varying degrees of fight capabilities, it was almost second nature to build that into his cover’s profile during an initial mission debriefings._

_“It’s fine. Mistakes will happen, and this was is most assuredly a small infraction.” Prowl laid down on his side and Jazz noticed that Prowl rolled until his cheek wasn’t on the pillow, as he faced out. Jazz watched Prowl as he made his way to his own half, noticing the tension in Prowl’s shoulders._

_Jazz rolled onto his half, making his way to Prowl and stopping short. Doorwings twitched but Jazz reached around the hinges and lightly touched the top inner corner of Prowl’s shoulders._

_“What are you doing?” Prowl almost gasped, his doorwings flickering light a windy flame._

_“Say what you will about it not being a big deal, but you’ve got tension in your shoulders and work early tomorrow. Just relax and let me get those knots out, okay?”_

_“Th-thanks, but I don’t require your assistance.” The doorwings were twitching less often but now a little further outward, opening the area as if the doorwings wanted it despite Prowl’s words._

_“Require and need are not always the same thing.” Jazz started softly rubbing the plating seams, warming them up for kneading._

_“They’re synonyms,” Prowl protested, still in words only._

_“Yeah, but I’ve been on enough missions to know that ‘require’ is a must-absolutely-have, while ‘need’ is a general must-have. Like you require recharge but you need relaxed muscle cables first. You can function with tense muscle cables, but you can’t function without recharge.”_

_“Nnngh,” Prowl groaned at the first knead. “I’ve functioned plenty without recharge.”_

_“Says your definition of functioning. It’s probably the reason you got knots for shoulders. Or is it because of the whole undercover ID thing?”_

_Prowl huffed, a loud ex-vent cut short by another stroke of Jazz’s hands. “I’m not used to not knowing things well in advance.”_

_“Even in battle?”_

_“In battle ‘well in advance’ means calculable by my tac-set and executable by me before it no longer matters. What bothers me the most is the number of undefined or under-defined variables and parameters. Even in battle I know a large percentage of my parameters. Terrain is often the same on Cybertron – desolate, degraded, or stronghold. There’s constants as well, such as allowances and limits in using Autobot soldiers, and treat attacking Decepticons. Us being Autobots pretending to be Decepticon-sympathizers have their own uncertainties, but my own identity clearly has holes not even my tac-set identified.”_

_“So you’re upset you didn’t set up your tac-set right, or that your tac-set failed to see the combat-training issue?”_

_“… If I failed the tac-set by not giving it the right data to process and find the oversight,” he whispered._

_Jazz gave a shoulder a small kiss. “How about that surprise?”_

_“I’m not sure what you mean?” Prowl’s whisper was a little more normal in volume, and baffled._

_“You can’t always fully define the parameters out here. In these kinds of missions sometimes it’s a fist to the cheek that comes without warning, sometimes it’s a kiss to a shoulder. Sometimes from the same mech, be it friend or enemy.” Jazz reach around and lightly caressed the spot he hit before returning to his task. “If you want, I could teach you how to work with the unknown/undefined instead of the known and defined. How to roll without stopping. Then you don’t always have to so thoroughly rely on your tac-set and worry about your oversights.”_

_“That would be beneficial.” The doorwings lowered forward and Jazz felt the tension bleed out of Prowl’s back._

_It was nice to have a positive breakthrough with someone while on a mission. Usually even on a team there wasn’t a chance to help out. Everyone knew how to keep their helm in the game so he wasn’t nearly as needed for non-mission duties as he was on base. On base, where it was as safe as it could be for an Ops agent, where an agent can focus on morale boosters instead of backup plans._

_A pang of homesickness struck him out of now where, but it quickly faded away with each stroke of his hands. Jazz realized one of the things he treasured about working with Prowl was his usefulness went beyond the mission and touched on his base-stationed life._

_Treasured?_

\---

“Jazz, do you have anything to ask?”

“Hmm?” he asked Mirage. “You’ve gotten everything I’ve got. Prowl told you what he’s got.”

“Yes. Between the two of you, I have an interesting images of the extra activities you two did. I doubt I’ll be able to pick up where you’ll be leaving off.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kinda expected when they pull two and drop in one.” Jazz commented, some bitterness in his voice. “I still want to finish this mission.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think they’re lining up a mission for you once you prove ready.” Mirage wasn’t insulting Jazz; standard post-mission protocol included showing his boss that he was mentally in the right helmspace to start his next mission. That gave him some wiggle room on how soon he wanted to restart his norm Ops activities.

“Uh-huh.”

Prowl decided to change the subject, or redirect it at minimum. “Shall we have dinner?”

The trio had their energon, first discussing the mission some more but later drifting into home base updates. Most of the later conversation was dominated between the two agents, Jazz wanting to know more about the social situation.

Eventually, long after the energon was finished, Mirage excused himself. “I’ll leave you two be. Since tomorrow is my first orn being introduced to Jazz’s contacts, I’d like some private time to prepare myself. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“See ya bright and early.”

The remaining mechs stared at each other, but only for a beat of silence. Jazz didn’t like awkward silences. “Time for us to head to our room?”

Prowl frowned. “I should work some more on Dealer, or at least see if I can further improve our intel on that weapon. Mirage will need more help.”

Jazz’s face tightened. “I thought you promised me you’d stop voluntarily overworking yourself.”

\---

_“No, you’re going to recharge.”_

_“No, I’m not,” Prowl argued right back, ignoring Jazz’s hunched and annoyed body language. He stayed by the computer._

_Jazz was tired of letting it go, where every time they had new intel Prowl worked himself until he nearly crawled to their shared berth. It took Jazz a while just to coax Prowl into the same berth when they first arrived, but the mech relaxed some after agreeing they both recharged better together while in enemy territory. It didn’t help Jazz when Prowl almost dropped next to him. Prowl tried to keep it quiet, but a tired frame wasn’t so coordinated and controlled to escape the notice of an active agent._

_Besides the annoyances of being woken without real reason, Jazz missed the comfort of recharging near a warm safe body, especially as near as a few nights ago after the training mishap. Prowl had fallen into recharge from Jazz’s massage and Jazz ended up recharging soon afterwards, without first moving away._

_“Fine, then I’m recharging down here with you.”_

_Prowl narrowed his optics. “Alright.”_

_“Are you seriously okay with that?”_

_“You aren’t enough of a fussy recharger or a noisy one to make it a problem.”_

_“Fine, then I’ll dance and sing the night away.”_

_Prowl huffed. “Why do you care?”_

_“Because you’re working yourself to dangerous tiredness levels while we’re in an unsafe environment!” And because Jazz really wanted his recharge partner. “What if something goes wrong?”_

_“My tac-set will handle it.”_

_“While you’re exhausted?”_

_“Non-critical energy consumption sources are turned off,” Prowl explained. “Energy will be rerouted so that my tac-set, motor systems, and communication systems are running. I haven’t worked myself below the estimated threshold of being able to maintain that level of function for six joors, with two transformations.”_

_“That’s no way to live!” Jazz was flabbergasted by the notion of working oneself to the bare struts, as far as he was concerned. Working until one could do little more than walk and talk? “Ugh, tomorrow you and I are taking the orn off from being spies and we’re going out. We’re doing things that make life worth living.”_

_Prowl almost literally hissed. “I can’t abandoned my work for something so trivial.”_

_“This is an open-ended assignment, for all that matters right now. We don’t know where the weapon is, only that Shockwave’s latest efforts are still in the early phases. No one will die or be harmed over it between now and tomorrow, or even in a mega-orn. Now get!” Jazz shooed at Prowl._

_“No.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“No,” Prowl declared and turned back to the computer._

_Jazz took the seat next to him and began singing and dancing in the chair. “I stay out too late!”_

_He was around the part of dancing to shake off negative comments when Prowl snapped. “It seriously cannot matter to you this much.”_

_“But it does. Come on, Prowl.” He changed tactics. He held out his hand, keeping his posture relaxed, as well as his voice. “Please come to recharge so we can do something worth living tomorrow.”_

_Prowl stared at Jazz’s hand. “You’re asking me nicely?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“No one asks me anything nicely.”_

_“It’s that important to me. Please come and I promise to ask things nicer of you.” Jazz resisted asking follow up questions to Prowl’s comment._

_Prowl’s stare slowly worked its way up to Jazz’s face. “Is this really because you think I need to recharge more to enjoy life better? Because I enjoy my work just fine.”_

_“If that’s true, then I’ve got my work cut out for me. This is for you and me. I need someone to recharge by me. If not for your own health, then please do it for mine?”_

_Prowl sighed. “Okay.”_

_“Promise? Promise you’ll stop doing voluntary overworking?”_

_Prowl took Jazz’s outstretched hand. “I promise that until things are more time-sensitive, I’ll not overwork.”_

\---

Prowl’s doorwings slipped down. “I know I promised to stop working longer joors during non-critical times, but this is important. Besides, there’s so little time left to help Mirage, and my promise had a ‘time-sensitive’ exemption clause.”

“We have just over 1.5 deca-orns. That’s hardly time-sensitive.”

“It is from a tactical standpoint. We had mega-orns to work, he’s got barely deca-orns to catch up and start precisely where we leave off.”

“Yeah, but I’m not letting you wear yourself out over the remaining time.” Jazz firmly grasped Prowl’s hand. “I will follow you downstairs and sing while I do things that don’t help. Don’t make me ruin my night, too.”

“Jazz…”

“Just like I meant it last time, I mean it this time.” Jazz stared hard into Prowl’s optics, his visor’s intensity shifting to pass on his glare.

Prowl stared back but only for a klik before he relented. “Fine.”

“Good.” Jazz wrapped his hand around Prowl’s and gently pulled him up.

Prowl hesitated but followed suit, walking after Jazz and wrapping his hand around his companion’s.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Fair warning: 2016 is and has been pretty much shot thanks to RL robots, so as far as writing goes, if it’s not a previously drafted chapter it’ll likely take way longer. :/ 
> 
> Adulting sucks when there’s no alcohol. ;)

Five orns later, Jazz and Prowl were in their room doing what they did most now: plot against Dealer behind Mirage's back. Jazz lounged on the berth while Prowl was standing still, but occasionally he took a step as if he were about to pace in place.

Prowl was in the midst of reporting out his latest shift’s activities. "I followed Dealer with the cameras as far as I could, and from the looks of it, he's going everywhere. I can't find a reasonable pattern or method to his efforts. My best guess is that he's hitting up all his sources to see if he can find a potential leak. Perhaps he’s even looking for a fall mech."

"Didn't know you did guessing."

" _Usually_ I don't guess, but sometimes I must do some guess work when it comes to mechs I hardly know, beyond knowing their incapability of properly handling difficult information."

"Ah, I get you. Any area he should accidently run into Meister?"

Prowl slowed down in his near-pacing. "I do have a place in mind, now that you mention it."

The tactician hesitated. A datapad closely placed between the pair was the best way to show Jazz.  After the briefest sliver of a klik Prowl scolded himself for undermining efforts of tactical ease for comfort. He and Jazz seem to come to an understanding since that night Prowl followed Jazz to berth instead of doing more work. They hadn't recharged wrapped up each other like before, but they were at least a bit more comfortable with the uncomfortable questions between them.

Prowl sat down on the berth and did his best to lean over Jazz's shoulder with a fetched datapad, without making it too intimate. That served to put Jazz's shoulder almost into Prowl's abdomen but Jazz didn't move. Prowl almost restarted the discussion when Jazz suddenly said, “I hope Lockdown never gets this close to you.”

Prowl instantly regretting let that part of Lockdown’s “private room” comment slip before Jazz met up with Dealer. It seemed to come up every third or fourth time talking about Dealer. “No, I don’t let him.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

“Of course. Now, there’s a spot Dealer seems to frequent the most in the evenings. I think if you met him there while pretending to check in on contracts, you could get more information on what’s going on in his mind.” Prowl pulled up the images of the area. “I think you know where this is? I think you actually do have a contract or two here.”

“Yeah, one. I can make it work.” Jazz rotated to better see the screen until he was almost in Prowl’s lap. He flipped through the pictures until he came to a little house. “That innocent looking home is actually the home of a rather nasty mech that I’m pretty sure is joining the Decepticons.”

Prowl missed the comment, but his tac-set caught him up. He murmured, still distracted by Jazz’s proximity, “Interesting.”

\---

_Prowl came out of recharge first, his battle protocols itching to come online the more he noticed something was trapping him. Just before the battle protocols would surge online without his command he recalled where he was: in his berth, recharging with Jazz._

_Prowl froze, not used to Jazz being physically this close beyond a few touches here and there, and never with his arms and a leg wrapped around Prowl in a loose-but-heavy hold. Should he go back to recharge? Push himself free?_

_He waited, wanting to see if he’d woken Jazz, but apart from some slight stirring Jazz didn’t fully online. Instead, Jazz settled with a discernible tightening of his grasp in all three limbs._

_A large part of Prowl wanted to work himself free, but a small part whispered to him of comforting security. The thought grasped hold of Prowl and he thought of all the ruined recharge cycles when after a particularly hard or ominous report kept him up worrying. There were no worries in the arms of an agent, even one recharging a bit more heavily than he expected. Prowl suspected that if there was the slightest threat Jazz would be ready in a spark pulse. Perhaps he was just a moment ago, for all Prowl knew about an agent’s recharging habits._

_The safety brought on by someone so capable of protection was enough to calm down Prowl’s unease, and he shifted back further into Jazz’s embrace._

\---

Jazz gave Prowl a sideways glance before pulling away. “Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s… alright. No harm done,” Prowl lamely replied. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed but the rapidly growing distance. “It made sense for you to be that close while we looked over this single datapad.”

Jazz cautious watched Prowl as he asked, “So it’s alright for me to get that close again, for things like that.”

“Of course,” was out his mouth before he could think of an appropriate answer.

Jazz scooted back into place. “Okay, so let’s figure out what I’m gonna say when I get there.”

-

Prowl left for another shift, leaving Jazz with Mirage. Jazz was still working on how to leave Mirage so he could follow up with Prowl’s and his plan, carefully dropping hints that his contracts needed to be wrapped up as fast as they could without giving away their impending move.

As it was now, Mirage watched Prowl leave from the dining table. When he heard the door click shut, he easily commented, “He seems different than what rumors claimed. What happened?”

“Different how?” Jazz asked instead of directly answering. “You referring to the ‘walking shaft up the aft’ comments, or the calculating and cold comments? Or how he’s all about work and never play?”

“Yes, that. All of that.”

“It’s true he was all about work early on, but he’s relaxed somewhat and now will occasionally go out. The rest of it isn’t true.” While his and Prowl’s first meeting wasn’t exactly warm, he wasn’t about to share.

Mirage canted his helm. “My mistake, then. I suppose after living in the Towers I should know better than to take gossip seriously.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I need to go handle some of my contacts.” Jazz was more annoyed than he thought possible considering the matter was something he once thought.

“Should I come with you?”

“Nah, this is a contract I can finish up before I leave. You don’t need to try and find an in with these mechs.” Jazz paused, remembering what he suspected going on in the house. “Well, okay. You might need to spy on them from time-to-time, but I’ll show you at another time.”

“Sometime soon, please. I’d like to spy on my targets at least once before you leave. So far I’ve only been able to do that once.”

“When?”

Mirage lightly grimaced, showing as much emotion as the noble was taught. “I couldn’t recharge so I left to see if anyone of the targets was still awake.”

“I take it they were and you got your invisible-spy-master on.”

“I’m not a spy-master, but I did watch them for a few breems with my invisibility cloak.”

Jazz nodded. “I can’t fault you for trying to work when you can’t recharge. Done it myself.” He supposed he was ignoring Mirage too much in hopes of at least having one physically tangible win before he left. “When I get back we can go check out a few more targets.”

“Sounds good. Which ones? I’ll study some more and prepare.”

Jazz selected the easiest targets to spy during the day. “You good?”

“I believe so.”

“Alright. See you later.”

“Goodbye.”

It didn’t take Jazz long to make his way to the house, nor was he in the house for long. He took his time leaving, visiting a very small energon café that bordered on being an energon stand but allowed him visibility over where Dealer should be passing through soon.

He was about to purchase his _third_ drink when he finally caught sight of Dealer quickly making his way through, looking to leave. Normally Jazz preferred a smooth introduction, but lacking the time he quickly called out, “Hey, Dealer!”

The mech stopped. He looked for the source until his optics landed on the mech walking towards him. “Hi, Meister. What brings you here?”

“Work. Energon. The usual.”

“Ah. Can you excuse me, I have some business that needs attending.”

“Sure, I suppose,” Jazz added a frown and hand on his hip, trying to appear put out.

His actions worked. “You could walk with me. Curious, what’s the contract about?”

“Just taking care of some disgruntled folks with ties to the client.”

“Disgruntled like that traitor?” he asked, his voice becoming more hushed.

“Nothing like that. Cade’s still working that. He’s been watching the cameras on the outer borders, facing the Autobot camp.”

“Since when?”

“Since the orn after he got the creds to find the traitor.”

Dealer relaxed slightly. “Anything else he’s watching?”

“Not yet. Gotta find a pattern first. You know techs, always looking for patterns and shortcuts.”

“Hmm, yeah. What do you think will happen to the traitor?”

Finally, the opening Jazz had been looking for. “With Lockdown? Nothing good. Even if he just wants the bounty, he’s looking because a client is interested. Either the traitor goes to the client or to lesson-teaching Enforcers. If you ask me, it’ll probably be unfair for whomever this mech is.”

“Why do you think it’s unfair?” Dealer’s face twitched upward, filled with questions.

Jazz shrugged. “You can’t be in a town between two enemy borders and not think of the possibilities. Who’s to say the traitor is a traitor to us? Maybe he’s giving the Autobots bad intel or product. No one’s going to believe him here, given the town’s general alliance.”

“So you’re sympathetic to the traitor?”

“I’m sympathetic to his fate if he stays in this town, _if_ he’s been a traitor to the Autobots instead of us.”

“I see. What would you do? In that case,” he tacked on.

Jazz considered giving away a little bit of private information about their move. “Tell him to move to another town. One with maybe less hardened sympathizer attitudes.”

“What town would that be?”

Jazz motioned them to walk between a pair of buildings, an alley of sorts. “Cade and I have to move. Something’s come up with a contract. That’s why I’m in the neighborhood. I’ll be doing some Autobot sabotage myself, and the town’s like I described. It works best, and we’re leaving in a deca-orn. Haven’t told anyone yet, so keep your trap shut.”

“Really? You’re just freely handing this information out?”

“No,” Jazz forcefully rebutted. “I’m thinking I’m gonna need that supplies you promised me soon. I’ll pay you back with whatever your cut is from the Autobots I steal.”

“I’d rather you stick to our original deal.”

“Fine. Just make sure you have the supplies ready in half a deca-orn.”

“If you keep me in the loop about your plans. Tell me more about this town and what makes it so special for your contract.”

-

Jazz was the last to enter their berthroom, having been out late with Mirage. Rather than being tired, he was more wired. “Want to go out?”

Prowl looked up from his datapad, pleasure reading for once. “Why?”

“Because we haven’t done that for a while.”

“Yeah, but usually when we do it’s a date. We… we should probably start working on transitioning back to our original duties.” Prowl had obsessed when alone over Jazz’s comment before he knew about Mirage, the one about “stuff on his mind.” There could only be one conclusion: Jazz wanted to end things. It was technically time, given how their real jobs never crossed before this assignment and they’d likely never see each other during off-duty activities.

“How about we just go out as friends?” Jazz hoped to maintain some sort of contact with Prowl, unless he didn’t want the same. If he refused to go out as friends, then perhaps they were done.

“Could we without raising suspicion about our sudden change in demeanor?”

Jazz hadn’t thought of that. “It’s not like we’re ever been a very affection couple in public. If mechs ask, we’re taking it easy. Come on, like we did the first time we went out, our pre-date date. Let’s take a break from all this plotting.”

\---

_“Come on, let’s go out!” Jazz whined._

_Prowl listened to all of Jazz’s points and his complaining. “There’s data to be analyzed.” That fact remained more important than all of Jazz’s points._

_Jazz grabbed Prowl’s arm. “There’s always data, and none of it’s even slightly critical. I will drag you out. I need to get out and I can’t watch you waste away in front of a computer.”_

_Prowl’s intakes almost hitched, thinking of that hand and those arms. So powerfully wrapped around him earlier. A sense of yearning took hold of him, wanting that secure sense back. He pushed it aside. “Where would we even go?”_

_“A pub. There’s one all dark so we can just be ourselves without really being observable.”_

_“I don’t drink.”_

_“Didn’t say you have to. Someone’s gotta be the designated ‘don’t do that, Jazz’ mech.”_

_“You are undoing what little convincing you had.”_

_Jazz groaned. “What if I swear to cut myself off at two – no, three – drinks? I’ll still be sober enough to walk a straight line home.”_

_Prowl sighed. “Fine.”_

_“Yes!” Jazz cheered. He tugged once on Prowl’s arm and then let go to dance to the door. He stopped and held his hand in front of his face. “Okay, Meister mask on in three, two, one. Let’s get out of here, Cade.”_

_Prowl was less dramatic about switching personas and they drove not far to the darkened pub. Jazz, being the more expressive mech, waved Prowl into the booth first. Prowl grunted and asked in a low voice, “Why am I on the inside? Why not the other side?”_

_Jazz comm’ed, ::This might not be a date, but we have to look the part somewhat. Don’t worry, no affection from me. We’ll keep this completely PDA-free and blow off any questions if asked.::_

_The waiter came over and Jazz order a fancy energon drink for himself and a Vosnian delicacy on behalf of Prowl. “So how’s work?”_

_“Fine.”_

_“This is the part where you give me details,” Jazz laughed with a nudge._

_Prowl resisted sighing and launched into several lengthy details that he thought would bore Jazz. Their drinks came and Jazz’s empty cube went away before Prowl finally finished._

_“Huh, this Lockdown sounds like a weirdo,” Jazz commented with a quick glance to the waiter not serving him a drink he was sure was ready. “At least he’s not around much.”_

_Prowl almost dropped his drink. No one listened to him more than necessary. “I don’t work the bounty office that much, which helps.”_

_“What office do you normally work?”_

_Since when did Autobots ask him unessential follow up questions to non-necessary points? “Processing speeding tickets from cameras.” It was how he got familiar with the camera system enough to be a cyber-stalker of a few suspicious mechs._

_“Is that fun, relatively speaking? Finally,” Jazz muttered the last part as his drink arrived._

_“It keeps me busy.” Prowl was starting to get uncomfortable with how much attention Jazz was paying him. “What’s your work been like?”_

_“Dangerous question, Cade. I’ve got so much to say on that we’ll be here long enough for six drinks!”_

_“Then I suggest you stretch out two and three, because I’ll leave if you order a fourth.”_

_“I’ll trap you,” Jazz snickered, wrapping an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. He squeezed and then let go, and Prowl immediately missed the warm of that strong arm. “But fine. Okay, so get ready for this.”_

_Jazz’s story telling got more animated the more he drank, especially as he stretched out his powerful drinks. Prowl was sure Jazz wouldn’t be walking a straight line, but then everything might have been an act. Agents were capable of pretending to be just about anything and still have sharp minds._

_He tested his theory. ::Are you alright? You seem very intoxicated.::_

_::Sure am alright,:: The response was crystal clear. ::I can handle much more than this. I have a system that slows down the effects of high grade, in part because of bar fights. Doesn’t do an agent any good to get laid up in a mission because of a stool being smashed into his helm.::_

_::So the whole thing is an act.::_

_::Of course. Can’t give it away I’m barely feeling the effects, given what I’m ordering. Keeping up appearances that Meister knows what’s fun. If you had the same system, I’d suggest doing the same so it makes more sense why Barricade and Meister are a pair. Oh well, ‘tis what it is. Plus I like keeping them guessing what brought us together.::_

_Prowl should’ve been annoyed at having to fake entertaining a fake drunk, or that Jazz was playing around with their background story, but instead he was amazed at Jazz’s skill and sharp mind. A mind close to his, even if thinking styles were different, was a rarity he looked for but so rarely found, and never in a mech he considered – dare he say it – a friend._

\---

Prowl couldn’t find it in himself to deny Jazz. “Assuming everything went well then Dealer, then I could use a break as well.”

“Out we go, then,” he declared and Jazz genuinely smiled for the first time in a deca-orn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I currently hate writing, but I had time to work on fanfics and nothing else, so I’m choosing to write what I can to push through that road block.
> 
> Why do I hate writing right now? The reason actually violates AO3 rules (yes, I’m serious), so you’ll have to go to [this Tumblr post](http://oly-chic.tumblr.com/post/157321498689/for-my-ao3-author-notes-im-writing-this-post). Please don’t post a response to the Tumblr post in the AO3 comments!

They went to the same bar they usually frequented as Barricade and Meister, both trying hard to find a balance between their covers and their own confused feelings. Jazz, for his part, was more used to putting his cover first but he knew Prowl wasn’t. If anything, he was trying to not push Prowl more than adjust his behavior for his own confusion. At first it helped that they established a low-to-no-PDA relationship beforehand, but Jazz soon found it difficult to ignore a pinging desire to hold hands like they very occasionally did.

The night turned out to be busier and nosier than they expected. Their waiter rushed them through their orders, giving them no time to waste on pondering their drink options. They sat opposite of each other, and although it wasn’t the first time, they usually shared a booth seat.

Tentatively Jazz reached out for Prowl’s hand. The forlorn pining in his chassis and processor was annoyingly strong. “Cade, I can’t wait for our bonding ceremony,” Jazz tried to ease the tension only they felt.

Prowl hesitated slightly before giving his hand. “I feel the same.”

Jazz squeezed, the motion reminding him of their first major date.

\---

_They drove to their favorite café, Jazz enjoying the light breeze on his tired frame. Prowl and he had a scheduled date and Jazz wasn’t about to damage his cover as a pre-bonded mech by blowing off the date. This was their first major outing as a couple, as oppose to their other trips where they didn’t do much but sit next to each other._

_Jazz asked once they transformed, “Can I order for you? I was hoping to surprise you with a new flavor I found.”_

_“How did you find a new flavor when we visit this café every three or four orns?”_

_“Turns out they have an off-menu item list.”_

_“Alright, you can surprise me so long as it’s nothing too sweet.”_

_Jazz laughed. “So nothing sweeter than slightly acidic. Luckily I already knew that. Wait here.” Jazz pulled out a chair for Prowl._

_Jazz walked up to the counter, nervous whether or not Prowl would like his pick. Jazz didn’t entirely appreciate the drink he tried, but he thought Prowl would love it. There were special copper-blend shavings and soft metals that fizzled in the drink._

_His nerves didn’t cease when he took it to Prowl and sat down while Prowl cautiously sipped the top. He offered a smile. “That is delicious. Thank you, Meister.”_

_Jazz grinned, his nerves calming down instantly and replaced with a warm contentment. “Glad you like it.” He reached over and clasped his hand around Prowl’s hand still on the table. He squeezed tight. “It’s always fun to surprise you. It’s a highlight of my orn when I can see that smile.”_

_Prowl’s doorwings flickered fast in a wiggling-like motion before stopping fast. Prowl’s optics widen before doggedly focused on his drink. Jazz chuckled and went back to his drink, his own spark fluttering like Prowl’s doorwings._

_Once his spark calmed down Jazz asked, “I’m looking forward to seeing about these games the travelers brought with them. I hope there aren’t long lines.”_

_“So do I. Then again… waiting with you wouldn’t be the worst way to spend the night.” Prowl’s doorwings twitched but didn’t wiggle again._

_Jazz smiled. “No, Cade, it wouldn’t.” He wished he didn’t have to use Prowl’s cover’s name to build up a reputation as a pre-bonded mech, looking for credits for the ceremony. It’d be easier on him if Prowl looked like Prowl, and he was free to use Prowl’s real name during these moment._

_Jazz’s spark started fluttering again as he realized_ why _he wanted to use Prowl’s real name during their fake-date. He sipped his drink fast, focusing on not spilling his cup. “I’m ready to go when you are,” he announced when done._

_Prowl sped up his drinking as well. “I’m ready.”_

_The pair drove to the main business area, transforming and taking the boulevard down to what was a mini-version of a carnival. Jazz was disappointed to learn there were few prizes to win, but satisfied that the crowds were low._

_“What do you think of that?” Jazz asked of one prize, a puzzle game involving trapped pinballs and pegs._

_“I could use a new game.” Prowl started approaching the stand but Jazz lightly grasped Prowl’s shoulder._

_“Let me.” Jazz let go and stepped forward. On his second try he managed to win the puzzle. He placed it softly in Prowl’s hands, his fingers caressing Prowl’s for a moment. “I hope it keeps you entertained for at least a few orns.”_

_Prowl smiled. “It will, I know it.”_

_They tried a few more games before the crowd started growing until it was more than either mech could tolerate. Jazz joked, “I didn’t realize so many mechs lived on the fringes of this town.”_

_“Neither did I. I suppose there’s more law-abiding citizens here than I thought. Perhaps… perhaps we could go for a walk? I’d like to continue our date.” Prowl asked, a shy smile accompanying the quiet question._

_“Yeah, a walk sounds nice.” Jazz put an arm around Prowl’s back briefly, long enough to guide Prowl in the direction he saw it less crowded. They talked for a few breems until Jazz reached out to hold Prowl’s hand. Prowl took it quickly and held it close to his side. Closer than needed for two pre-bonded mechs to look the part._

_Jazz realized this wasn’t a date between his cover and Prowl’s, but a date between Prowl and him. A smile overtook his face and Jazz gave Prowl a chaste cheek kiss, eager to break their PDA rules. Prowl’s doorwings fluttered quickly and energon heated the tactician’s face pink, but another shy smile grew on his face. Jazz nuzzled Prowl, able to tell that Prowl knew the same thing about their date’s realness._

\---

They talked briefly about their fake bonding ceremony, a regular routine of theirs. Jazz felt Prowl’s hand relax the more they talked about something familiar. Their high-grade energon arrived earlier than they expected and they broke away to quietly drink. Jazz wanted to keep holding Prowl’s hand. Drinking with one hand was easy enough, but Prowl was using both of his.

Jazz was considering breaking the silence by asking for Prowl’s hand again anyways. “Hey, Cade – ”

Prowl suddenly said, “Lockdown is headed this way.”

Jazz’s back straightened until it was almost painful. What did that dangerous mech want? Prowl’s semi-naiveté was easy pickings for someone like Lockdown. The saboteur became hyperaware of his surroundings, especially Prowl’s body language. Prowl’s upright position and flicked up doorwings complimented the guarded look in the tactician’s optics. The weariness in Prowl’s response helped ease some of the edge in Jazz’s new mood. Not much, but some.

Lockdown approached from behind Jazz, immediately making Jazz feel paranoid about having an identified-foe behind his back. Jazz wanted to “greet” Lockdown first, setting the tone before Lockdown could. “Lockdown, what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I visit?”

“Not during our date,” Jazz answered. Prowl remained silent, watching the exchange.

Lockdown rebutted, “It seems like every time I see you two, Meister, you always say you’re on a date.”

“What a weird coincidence. Must be that whole pre-bonded thing,” Jazz responded sarcastically.

Prowl joined in the conversation. “Do you need something, Lockdown?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know if you had any updates on…” Lockdown approached Prowl, passing Jazz. The silver mech’s plate bristled. Lockdown whispered, close to Prowl’s audio, “… about that traitor.”

Jazz’s outside hand shot out so fast it almost smacked Lockdown. It rested on Lockdown’s closest arm, his grip slightly tightened. “You don’t need to whisper. It’s loud enough in here that you could almost talk normally and no one would hear you.”

“Are you a part of this conversation? I don’t think so.” Lockdown tried pulling his arm out of Jazz’s grip, but Jazz was faster. He tightened his grip before Lockdown’s arm could escape. Jazz wasn’t giving him a chance to get closer to Prowl.

“I think I’m part of every conversation Cade has when he’s off the clock.”

“Controlling much?”

Jazz was taken aback by the reply. It wasn’t Lockdown who made him doubt himself, per say, but the realization Prowl hadn’t stepped in or turned Lockdown away. “Cade?”

Prowl almost replied too softly for a Decepticon-sympathizer, “I don’t think you’re controlling. I’m with Meister on the matter.” The tactician cleared his vocalizer and spoke more normally. “As Meister said, there’s enough noise that you don’t need to encroach on our space to avoid someone eavesdropping.”

When Lockdown backed off, grumbling as Jazz let go, Prowl continued speaking. “Meister and I have been working on it. We haven’t found the traitor yet, but we’ve narrowed it down to ten mechs. Is that sufficient enough for you, for now?”

“I’m glad we’re closer to finding the traitor, I just wish it was sooner.”

Jazz bit his glossa to not snap about that comment. He knew why Lockdown wanted it sooner, and he hoped Prowl did, too. Jazz couldn’t entirely remain quiet. “Goodbye, Lockdown.”

Lockdown glared at Jazz. “Goodbye, Meister.” He added something quieter than Jazz couldn’t hear over the noise, which served to irk Jazz more. Lockdown left, only to go far enough to be out of Jazz’s vision but not Prowl’s. Jazz was in no mood to stay.

“Come on,” the silver mech said as he gulped down his remaining drink. “Let’s go for a walk outside.”

Prowl drank his energon quickly, but with more finesse than Jazz. “We haven’t done that in a long time. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I need fresh air.” Jazz waited only as long as Prowl put down his empty cup to usher the tactician out of the booth. Jazz took Prowl’s hand, knowing it was in full view of Lockdown and not giving a damn. If he felt anything specific, it was smug protectiveness. Prowl was his.

Jazz’s thinking came to a halt as his body fell into automatic mode to walk out and turned down the business boulevard. Did he really still feel that way?

In the back of his mind he knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit it yet. The fresh air would do him well for more than one reason.

Still feeling the protectiveness of Prowl, and maybe a little of something else, Jazz carefully entwined his fingers with Prowl’s. Thoughts about their PDA rules didn’t cross his mind. He felt Prowl’s grip stiffen but then relax. Jazz offered a conversation that Prowl was familiar with, even though they already partially had it. “How was work?”

“Work went well, if not a little slow in the middle of my shift.” Prowl spoke almost elaborately about work, perhaps latching onto the talking point for all of its worth. Jazz didn’t mind too much; it gave him time to reflect about other matters when Prowl mentioned something he’d said back when they were plotting against Dealer.

Occasionally during Prowl’s runaway talking points, drifting into days past and future plans, Jazz lightly squeezed Prowl’s hand. There was always a hesitate squeeze back, but they were slowly faster than each predecessor. Jazz wasn’t sure if Prowl was doing it for his cover’s sake or not, but he didn’t want to disrupt his own fantasy that none of it was fake by comm’ing him to ask.

Was it always fantasy? Before Mirage’s arrival it felt real, but Mirage reminded him that it wasn’t. Maybe he could go back to living that fantasy, if just for their remaining deca-orn.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I don’t dislike writing so much!

Jazz waited on Mirage to finish taking his notes. After Mirage was done he’d lock himself in his room and Jazz would make the next step to getting Dealer paranoid enough to fall into their trap. He was a tad nervous about it, but not about himself. Prowl was coming along but aside from lying to Lockdown about assisting him in his quest to find the traitor, Prowl had never tricked someone like this. Of course Prowl knew deception to force others to think how he wanted, but only as a battle tactician.

“So,” Mirage asked, “how’s it going with Prowl? I noticed you’re spending a lot of time with a mech known for being as fun as slag on a ped.”

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” he rebutted. ‘ _He’s far from that if you got to know him, even if his idea of party is less crazy than mine._ ’

“How?”

Jazz didn’t want to answer the question but he knew Mirage would prod unless he got something. Worse, he might invite himself to see what Jazz saw in Prowl. “It’s like watching a sparkling take their first steps and then start running after a deca-orn, or two. Prowl was slow to Ops work but he’s getting better pretty quick.”

“So you’re hanging around him like a mentor?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Mirage shook his helm. “I never thought I’d say this, but you might be too dedicated to Ops. Training someone from scratch during a mission you knew couldn’t last for a quarter of a vorn? You could have just left him with the basics to do his job. Let him be the shy one who stays inside. That would’ve worked better for his true purpose.”

“Leaving me to do all the work? No way. Besides, shyness is now way for Meister’s future mate to act.” Jazz shook his helm. “Anyway, we’re done here? Prowl and I promised a friend we’d meet for a late dinner. We have to keep up appearances that we’ll miss our life here.” Or something like that.

“Don’t let me hold you up and ruin your cover.” Mirage gathered the two datapads, one from Jazz and the one with Mirage’s notes. “It’ll make setting up my cover that much more difficult.”

“Have fun studying. I’ll take you back out tomorrow to make sure your connections to my connections are still firmly in place.” Jazz glided up the stairs, careful to not let his anxiety show to the observant Mirage.

When he hopped out the door he found Prowl waiting for him. “You ready?” he asked.

Prowl nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go while I haven’t overthought the plan.”

Jazz thought about the first time Prowl overthought a plan. “Yeah, that would suck,” Jazz said, not really meaning it.

\---

_“What if it goes wrong? I’m not used to tactical plans for such small operations,” Prowl fretted, pacing around the room. His words paused from spilling about all the different ways the mission could go wrong, including the most remote chances, stopping long enough for Jazz to finally speak._

_“You’ve been doing this for a while now, even if you’ve hardly noticed.” Jazz sat on the couch, the room not spacious enough for him to trail Prowl and get him to stay put._

_“Sneaking around is more your domain than mine.”_

_“But I’m used to adapting a plan, not making the plan.” Jazz planned to remedy that, his weakness making the other worry, resulting in Jazz’s spark buzzing with unpleasant energy. As he watched Prowl continue to pace, he finally had enough. He timed Prowl’s path once he saw the predictability in his movements. Jazz jumped up and caught Prowl, pulling him into a tight hug and reaching around to pet Prowl’s helm. “It’s going to be okay,” he said in his most soothing voice._

_Prowl was stiff until Jazz spoke, his guarded reaction relaxing a fraction. Prowl adjusted in Jazz’s arms, his doorwings wiggling until they were comfortable with one arm below and one arm above them. Jazz’s spark twirled when Prowl didn’t fight to get out, even if he remained more tense than Jazz liked. His other hand rubbed Prowl’s lower back._

_“How can you be so sure, Jazz?”_

_“Because I have faith in you. You’ve done an amazing job so far, and you’re one of the few I can honestly say I trust to put my life in their hands.”_

_Prowl’s reaction tensed before suddenly melting, his arms nestling into Jazz’s sides in an equally tight hold. “Perhaps we should go to the berth early tonight, make sure we’re well rested for tomorrow. Maybe… maybe we could stay like this? I rest easier these orns.”_

_Jazz could feel the heat in Prowl’s checks as they were pressed into his chest. “Sure, mech. I’d like that.”_

\---

“Hello, Dealer,” Jazz said at the outside front corner of the bar, his body language taunt while Prowl trailed him, his body language troubled and slightly hunched inward. Jazz’s optics darted around for a quick glance.

Immediately Dealer reacted. He whispered, “Are we in danger?”

“Who knows, depending on who’s responsible for what Cade found.”

“What did Cade find?” Dealer’s focus narrowed on Prowl.

This was the start of Prowl’s role in speeding up their plan. They only had a few orns left and they needed to get Dealer on board with “escaping” with them fast. Prowl’s optics swept the area. “I think we should take a walk down the alley.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jazz responded. “Stretch our peds before sitting in a crowded bar.” He motioned for them to walk halfway down the long alley.

“So what did you find, Cade?” Dealer asked anxiously once they stopped.

“More about that traitor.” Prowl looked over his shoulder for good measure before staring down Dealer as if he was revealing a great secret. “It’s worse than him being an Autobot sympathizer. Worse than Meister told you. Not only is this traitor an ally to the Autobots, but he’s _selling_ to Autobots. One of our mechs found an Autobot camp with _our_ town’s supplies. The kind of supplies that helps Autobots resist the Decepticons’ might.”

Dealer’s optics opened wide. “Meister, you told me Lockdown knows about a traitor. Does he have this information?”

Prowl answered, his role more knowledgeable on Lockdown. He lied, “He knows and he’s hunting the traitor faster to stop the flow of goods to the Autobots. Lockdown will catch the traitor soon, I’m sure.”

Jazz added, “He’s good at his job, after all.” The words burned his tongue.

“That sounds great,” Dealer replied, his words a little too rushed.

Jazz made his play. “Yeah, it’s a good thing we’ll be out of here soon. As much as I love taking out troublemakers, what’ll ever happen to the traitor will be uglier than Cade has ever seen.”

Prowl protested, “I can handle gruesome. I wouldn’t be pre-bonded to you if I didn’t have a taste for unsavory behavior.”

‘ _Prowl’s at risk for going off script,_ ’ Jazz realized. He hoped Prowl would figure out how to keep on script, even if he stayed teetering on the line. “True,” was all Jazz acknowledged, trying to avoid the potential conversation tangent. “Still, it’ll be ugly.”

Dealer nodded. “I’m sure. I’d… love… to see what happens to the traitor. Say, aren’t we supposed to be having our dinner? You haven’t told me much about where you’re going. It’s about time you catch me up on your plans.”

Jazz almost ex-vented in relief, Dealer having taken the second piece of bait. “I thought we were supposed to talk about that deal on weapons you promised me.”

“All in good time. Does it hurt to have a little conversation about future plans? After all, it’s why you want that deal on weapons.”

“When you put it that way, I suppose not,” Jazz answered. Dealer would be driving the conversation once in the bar, surely snooping for information. How Prowl reacted to snooping conversations was a bit fretful for Jazz, the saboteur remembering the first and last time a client of Jazz’s caught them both by surprise.

\---

_Jazz’s client, Metronome, was waiting at the newsstand he ran, one that controlled the town’s datapad news feeds. Prowl walked in-line with Jazz despite Jazz wanting Prowl to be behind his back. This client wasn’t overtly dangerous, but not one Jazz wanted Prowl to meet; however, Prowl had been tasked by his boss to get the local news reports not on the datapad feeds._

_“Meister, how goes it?” Metronome greeted, his stand empty of other visitors._

_“It goes how you wanted.” Jazz pulled an old film document out of his subspace. “Creds first.”_

_Metronome produced the credits quickly, eager for the document. “Hand it over carefully.”_

_“Obviously. Stealing this was worse than snatching fine silk in a spiky room.” Jazz handled it carefully, glad to be free of the flimsy document._

_The newsmech smiled and put it in his subspace. He glanced at Prowl. “What can I do for you?”_

_“What’s the latest reports you haven’t published in the newsfeeds?” Prowl asked, forgetting small talk. Jazz almost groaned. He could get away with skipping the small talk when he had something Metronome desperately wanted, but not newcomers. Metronome liked his gossip._

_His client’s mouth twitched. “Nothing, cop. I’m an honest mech, and I say it as I see it.”_

_“I’m a crime tech, not a cop.” Prowl frowned._

_Jazz nudged Prowl but spoke to Metronome. “Sorry, he’s a bit nervous. We’ve begun making more serious plans about our bonding ceremony.”_

_Metronome’s optics lit up. “Really? Do tell.”_

_“Just the catering and what paint decorations we’ll wear. Nothing_ too _serious, like our vows, but still enough to keep this one’s mind busy.” For good measure Jazz grabbed Prowl’s hand, giving it a little playful swing. “Isn’t that right, sweetspark?”_

_“Yes…?” Prowl sounded distracted, like he was trying to figure out Jazz’s plan._

_He gave “Barricade” an intended-brief kiss before Prowl could mistakenly switch topics too early, skipping the small talk and Metronome’s wanted gossip. By the end of the lingering kiss Jazz forgot why he’d done it, enjoying the tingle on his lips._

_Jazz was so distracted as his optics lingered on Prowl, hoping to not see “Barricade” blush and yet also wanting to see Prowl relax and smile, he missed Metronome’s comment. He pulled away from Prowl, but only a hand-width away. “What?”_

_“I said the two of you are clearly in love, even though it’s weird you two haven’t said ‘I love you’ since you got to town. That’s something I haven’t added to the newsfeed for you, Cade.” Metronome leaned forward. “Strange for a pre-bonded couple.”_

_Prowl’s body language changed, squirming and doorwings twitching. “But it’s not abnormal, just perhaps not typical. There’s nothing news-worthy about it. We’re a_ completely _normal couple.”_

_Jazz looked into Prowl’s optics. Softly he interrupted, “I love him.”_

_Prowl’s optics flickered downward before he shyly answered, “I love him, too. More deeply than I thought I could love.”_

_Jazz smiled, dropping his cover’s manipulative persona to hold onto this moment. He reached out and pulled Prowl into a tight embrace, kissing him deeply._

\---

The three of them sat down towards the back, Prowl and Jazz sharing a booth for the first time since they had their shocking realization that their feelings for each other were possibly more cover-driven than reality. Jazz shook the feeling of anxiousness at being so close. He’d been close only two orns ago, squeezing Prowl’s hand even. Why did sitting next to Prowl still make him anxious?

His mind knew and tried supplying him the answer but Jazz resisted. He had a task to do, and he needed to watch over Prowl to make sure Prowl didn’t slip up again and risk taking them off-topic. Most of Jazz’s focus was on Prowl. His mind said something about his focus being more than necessary so Jazz turned to Dealer. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you tell me about the town you’re moving to? How do you know you’re going to have work, Meister?”

“The town’s nickname is Spinster town. It’s full of bitter old mechs who keep to themselves, have grudges against nearly everyone, and lots of creds. Finding work won’t be hard.”

“That’s good,” Dealer said, relief almost transparent in his voice. “I’m concerned about my friends having any other friends in town. That’s got to be a boring town to live in.”

Prowl shrugged. “The smaller towns skirting around Spinster have plenty of potential friends.”

“Yeah,” Jazz interjected, seeing an opportunity that Prowl missed. “That said, driving out to seeing them could waste a lot of energon.”

“I doubt it, since the towns aren’t terribly far away,” Prowl said, still not seeing what Jazz saw.

“It would be good to have friends in town, you know.” Jazz took Prowl’s hand and squeezed it tight twice, their signal for letting the one squeezing to take over. Jazz could see a split-klik moment of confusion, but Prowl’s facial expression smoothed out before anyone not watching him carefully would notice.

“True, what he said,” Prowl answered.

Jazz waited for Dealer, hoping he’d go for the third piece of bait. Dealer hummed and said, “That’s too bad. Maybe you’ll find someone in town.”

The saboteur nearly wacked his helm on the table. Prowl and he would have to double their efforts, meaning Prowl would be more involved since he was supposedly working for Lockdown. Jazz didn’t like Prowl working with one seedy character, and now that he would likely work with two, all Jazz wanted to do was hold Prowl tight and keep the tactician by his side.


	12. Chapter 12

Prowl didn’t know what to do as Jazz and he drove home, departing from Dealer. His mind and tac-set was focused on how he was now dancing around two mechs who could cause him grief, Lockdown and Dealer, and he was not a good dancer. That was Jazz’s thing, but Jazz couldn’t work with Lockdown and because Lockdown was the traitor hunter it logically made sense for Prowl to put the pressure on Dealer.

His mind was so preoccupied with his troubles that he almost missed the turn into their driveway. Jazz transformed and looked worriedly at Prowl. “You okay?”

“Yes, I was just momentarily distracted.” Prowl nodded at the door, indicating that it was an inside conversation. Jazz nodded back and the two made their way into the house without another word.

“Why were you distracted?” Jazz asked when the door was closed.

“I have concerns about my plans and their timing.”

Jazz tentatively reached out for Prowl’s upper arm. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be by your side.”

“You can’t, at least not for all of it. Lockdown is my problem and mine alone, and now that I’m juggling that responsibility with Dealer? It’s not what I’m used to doing.” Prowl tried not leaning into Jazz’s touch and he was largely successful.

He couldn’t also handle the two stressors and his confusing feelings about Jazz. He tried avoiding feelings in general, but for some reason when Jazz was forward with his touches he couldn’t help but reciprocate, to some degree. Several degrees.

“I should go downstairs and start working on my plans,” Prowl stated, reluctantly pulling away from Jazz.

The silver mech practically pouted. “I can help you. I know more about this topic than you.”

“That is true…” Prowl wanted to be away from Jazz while the back of his mind worked on comprehending their latest developments.

“Then let’s go,” Jazz declared, tugging at Prowl’s hand. Jazz was definitely going to be at the forefront of Prowl’s mind if he kept this up.

Lucky for Prowl and his mixed feelings, Jazz didn’t sit next to him. He sat across from him, spreading two datapads out. Jazz handed Prowl one. “This one has an in-depth coverage about undercover manipulation to get someone to come with you.” He handed Prowl another one. “And this one has a lot to say about putting your target in a state of fear you can control. I pretty much have them memorized, so why don’t you read where I tell you to read?”

“Alright, sounds like a good start.”

Jazz stood up and readjusted himself so that he was now by Prowl’s side. Prowl’s intakes hitched at the near-contact. Jazz leaned over, lightly brushing Prowl’s side, and scrolled through the table of contents until he found the section he wanted.

“Start with that one. I’ll read along with you to make sure I’m as good at memorizing these datapads as I say I am.” The saboteur leaned a little bit away, choosing to rest his helm next to a doorwing and peer over Prowl’s shoulder. By doing so he was curled up almost into Prowl’s side.

Prowl was not going to read at his normal pace, that was for sure. He could feel Jazz’s quiet ex-vents on his shoulder. He contemplated telling Jazz his position was a distraction, but one glance back and he didn’t have the spark to shoo Jazz away.

He worked hard to focus on the reading material, he really did. Somehow his speedy reading took long enough that Jazz spoke first. “Done yet?”

“Almost. I’m feeding the information to the tac-set for adaptive programming.”

“Doesn’t that take like a nano-klik to do, or something like that?”

“Usually,” Prowl awkwardly answered. “This is new so it’s taking longer.” He said that like a question. Prowl returned to reading, finally able to speed through it now that he knew Jazz was waiting on him. “Done.”

Jazz sat up and faced him, his body language more professional. Prowl missed the feeling of his ex-vents. He immediately dismissed that line of thought when Jazz said, “Summarize it to me.”

For two joors Jazz worked on teaching Prowl everything he could on the relevant subjects before Prowl’s chronometer alerted him for recharge. He knew Jazz’s was set to the same time, and Jazz didn’t miss a beat when he announced, “That’s the end of lessons this orn. Time to let your processor do its thing while you recharge.”

“You mean sort and file away the information.”

“That’s what I said.” Jazz swept away the datapads, plucking one out of Prowl’s hand.

“I was still reading that. You can’t even let me finish the last paragraph?”

“No, because then you’ll want to read the next paragraph that relates to the last paragraph, and so on until you pass out on me.”

“I do not read until I ‘pass out.’” A lie, but except for that one time since Mirage arrived, Prowl had been good about not doing it.

“Uh-huh. Let’s go.”

Despite the early awkwardness when Mirage arrived, their recharging together was slowly getting closer. It was Prowl who resisted recharging in the middle the most. Logically it still made sense to recharge together, Jazz’s long-ago reasoning about safety still true. More than once Prowl was tempted to point out that Jazz would be better off recharging with Mirage, the two able to do a better job defending their home coming out of recharge than he ever could. Prowl couldn’t bring himself to make the point. It was the same as him pretending to not notice when a recharging Jazz reached out to touch him.

Like his usual recharging patterns these past two orns, Jazz moved to the middle of the berth. His voice was almost timid when he asked, “Recharge by me? Feeling a warm frame when I recharge is better than feeling a presence in the berth.”

The word “no” came to Prowl’s panicked mind, Jazz’s request making his spark act strange with its twirls and leaps. What left his mouth was a “yes.”

He crawled into Jazz’s arms, settling down carefully on one of Jazz’s arms. His mind thought about countless things while he settled. Should he be doing this, knowing that their feelings could very well be fake? Was he setting himself up again for being shocked _again_ back into reality? What would happen to him once Jazz reverted to his real self, orns from now? He should be protecting his spark and backing out of the embrace.

It was too late now to do so without offending his mission partner. Prowl settled into Jazz’s arms, planning on addressing his concerns before their next recharge. The questions needed answering, and fast.

-

Prowl moved nervously at work. His shift was almost over, and after their last impromptu meeting he expected more to come. His suspicions came true when at the last ten breems of his shift Lockdown appeared. “Got time to talk?” his visitor asked.

“If I say ‘no,’ will you leave?”

“Never have before, and I don’t see a reason to start.” Lockdown approached him until he was invading Prowl’s large personal space bubble. “We need to talk about how you took my credits but you haven’t delivered your Intel.”

“I’ve given you everything, but one piece of data. I just learned that the traitor is selling supplies to the Auotobots.” He didn’t want to give up the information, but if he gave nothing then this could turn unpleasant.

Lockdown growled. “I need more information. This traitor must be stopped.” Lockdown ghosted a hand over Prowl’s arm. “Perhaps we could brainstorm in a private room.”

“Brainstorm over what? Never mind, I have no interest in locking myself in a private room with you.” Lockdown was becoming more of a concern to Prowl after that meeting in the bar.

“You promised when you took my creds.”

Prowl remembered, just as he remembered his plan to be gone before that mattered. “I promised to do that at the end, and not a moment before.”

Lockdown pulled away and narrowed his optics. “You better not be holding out on me until you leave. I will hunt you down if you do, once I dispatch the traitor.”

Prowl considered the risks. If he ever needed to resume being Barricade, having a bounty hunter wanting him for stealing would be a problem. “If I can’t find you a name on the orn Meister and I leave, I’ll return you the credits.”

“What if I said I wouldn’t accept the credits, that I’d only accept a name or alone time with you to plot out finding who it is from the remaining suspects?”

“I have too many names,” Prowl protested.

“I didn’t say a number. On your second-to-last orn, I will meet you here at the end of your shift so we can talk. Either give me a name or a list.”

Prowl was going to call in sick that orn and hide out with Jazz. Surely Lockdown would not challenge Meister. “I will see you then,” Prowl said in his most monotone voice.

Lockdown lingered, watching Prowl closely before leaving without another word. Prowl deeply ex-vented. This was not the kind of trouble he was used to fending off. He spent most of his life used to trouble about being alone, and now he had confliction about loving someone and using his time to trick two mechs. How did he change so much?

His problems didn’t get better once he walked out the door. “Hi, Cade!” he heard Dealer’s voice greet him before he spotted the mech.

“Good evening, Dealer. What brings you around?”

“I saw Lockdown leave here and was curious if you found that traitor yet.” Dealer laughed. “Like I told Meister, I’m interested in stealing the traitor’s business, now that I know he has one. Not the Autobot one! Whatever one here that’s got him supplies to give to the Autobots.”

Prowl answered cryptically, “We’ve added a couple names to the short list. I need to head home now. Goodbye.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“I don’t think we have much to say.” Prowl moved to distance himself from Dealer, taking great care to indicate Dealer’s name might have been added to the list.

“Come on,” Dealer pleaded.

“No, and goodbye.” Prowl transformed and took off quickly. He made it home alone.

When he entered the house he found only Jazz present. “Where’s Mirage?”

“We finished convincing my contacts to work with Mirage on his own. Right now he should be making a reputation for himself.”

Prowl belatedly heard Jazz’s words when he noticed Jazz trying to casually flip a datapad out of Prowl’s view. “What’s on the datapad?”

“Nothing…” Jazz said slowly, drawing out each syllable. He looked at this datapad, ex-vented, and then flipped it back. “I’m weighing things, trying to figure them out, about what to do when we’re done here. I lost track of time.”

“Why does that matter?”

Jazz’s face twitched with uncertainty. “I’m… I’m working on trying to figure us out.”

“Us?” Prowl echoed, anxiety and interest mixing together. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. “Given how much we already have going on, perhaps that’s a discussion that should happen after this mission ends.”

“But that’s when things get _more_ complicated,” Jazz rebutted. “I know you’ve never return from an undercover mission, so trust me when I say that they don’t give you much time to think until they’re convinced you’re _you_ again.”

Jazz started standing up but hesitated. Prowl tried to use Jazz’s hesitation to his advantage. “Then things will be easiest when we go back to our normal jobs, and we’ve had time to properly process this mission.”

That clearly had the opposite effect that Prowl wanted when Jazz’s face became serious and he continued standing. He crossed the distance until he was within arm’s reach of Prowl. The Praxian nearly squirmed.

The silver mech spoke after a short silence. “I think I’m starting to want to make plans with you now about us spending time together before and after we’re done decompressing from this mission.”

“What kind of plans?”

“The kind where we get better acquainted without thinking about our alt identities.” Jazz’s face nervously twitched and his body shifted before returning back to a neutral, serious stance.

Prowl weighed many options at once. The one he landed on to express out loud wasn’t necessarily the best one, but it was the one that nagged at him the most. “You believe we can talk now without our cover identities interfering? Aren’t you worried that what we’ve been doing now is reverting slowly back into our habits when we were succumbing to our cover story? I think perhaps we should wait awhile and decide if we want to talk when we’ve had time to process our mission better.”

“I’m not worried about reverting back to our habits, because I know that our habits weren’t solely us succumbing to our cover story. Maybe in the beginning, but not in the end.” Jazz clenched his fists. “I’m not going to blow this off just because you aren’t comfortable having this discussion. It’s too important to me.”

“But this was just supposed to be an undercover mission. Since we started it’s become far more complicated and, as a tactician, I know that complicated matters are best sorted by taking a step back and tackling it one piece at a time. Right now what we should be focused on is completing our mission, both the one Mirage knows about and the one he doesn’t. The mission always comes first; matters such as feelings of an operative not imperative to the mission should be a secondary concern. I know this and I know you should know this.” Prowl really did not want to have this conversation on top of everything else he was balancing. He already felt strained. Surely appealing to Jazz’s professional side would work.

Jazz’s visor flared. “I know the mission comes first. Are we working either mission part right now? No, and having this discussion doesn’t compromise our work in any way. I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m being an immature operative because I want to take advantage of a quiet moment and resolve what’s between us before things get more hectic.”

“Resolve what? How we thought we loved each other because our covers did, and so we acted the part even when we weren’t playing the roles?” There, he said it. “How do I know what I felt for you wasn’t me confusing what Barricade felt for Meister? You said it happened in the beginning, and I’m not convinced it didn’t carry through to when we realized the error. That’s why I want to take time and see what happens. Why don’t you understand that?”

Jazz’s shoulders pulled back. “You mean to tell me after everything you can’t tell the difference between yourself and your cover, between me and my cover? You’re really saying that you might feel nothing for me and it was all just a lie?”

“No, I’m… I’m saying I don’t know and I would appreciate some time to myself to weigh out the considerations I need to put into place.”

“And leave me in limbo while you and your tac-set work on figuring out if I’m valuable enough to see whether or not there’s something worthwhile between us?” Jazz sounded faintly hurt, like he was trying to hide his true feelings.

Jazz wasn’t giving Prowl the distance he needed. Prowl hadn’t factored feelings into his mission. As a tactician in a war with a morally-deprived enemy he made decisions that weren’t popular and sometimes had their own moral questions. He pushed it all aside to make those calls without doubt because doubt was his enemy. Case in point was this confrontation with Jazz. He didn’t know how to handle it and all its doubt. “I’m not going to leave you in limbo. You’re free to move on, and if I come to the conclusion to spend time with you too late, then that’s my loss. I need time to make sure I come to the right conclusion and neither of our time is wasted pursuing false feelings.”

“You know which ones are real.” Jazz reached out and squeezed Prowl’s arm, his voice tense. Prowl remained locked in place, despite a part of him wanting to make his point and pull away. “ _This_ is real, whatever you feel right now. Why aren’t you accepting that?”

“Because it’s not professional!” Prowl blurted out. He pulled his arm free. “Everything I’ve ever been until this mission has been professional. Why do you have to push me on these unprofessional matters, of two operatives falling into some sort of unwise romantic entanglement during an undercover mission?”

“Unwise? Un-freaking-wise?” Jazz pulled back. “So you’re saying that you’re probably done with this.”

“No, I’m saying that there’s too much to consider and I don’t appreciate having to make a decision now, because it might be the wrong decision. I can’t make a decision this instant, especially with you forcing me to deal with matters that I’m not ready to analyze.” Prowl backed up. “And I’m not going to make a decision right now.” He turned and briskly walked – perhaps one might call it fled – to the front door.

Ignoring Jazz’s calls, Prowl slammed the door shut, dove off the entrance stairs into his alt mode, and took off. Why did Jazz have to push matters? The last time Jazz pushed Prowl to confront his emotions the experience used a lot of his energy and Jazz knew that.

\---

_Prowl was careful around Jazz after their shared kiss at Metronome’s newsstand. He’d allowed his cover a moment of intimacy a cold tactician normally couldn’t fake. He wasn’t sure what to make of that._

_“Prowl, come here,” Jazz motioned from the kitchen where he was preparing their lunch._

_He obeyed. “Yes?” he asked when he neared Jazz._

_“What’s got your cables in a twist?”_

_“Am I really that obvious?” Prowl faintly joked. When Jazz chuckled but said no more, Prowl tried finding the words. “I was just thinking about how our covers are really in love, aren’t they?”_

_“They’re future bondmates, so they better be. That can’t be what’s bothering you?”_

_Prowl shrugged. “I’m surprised how much easier the role comes to me these orns.”_

_“Why, don’t think you’re capable of even feigning love?” Jazz paused what he was doing to look back at Prowl. When Prowl said nothing Jazz stuttered. “Wait, you really think that?”_

_“I’m not known for my warmth. When I started Barricade none of it came easy. I don’t know how it’s changed.”_

_“Because you’ve changed.” Jazz completely stopped what he was doing and turned to face Prowl. He held Prowl’s hands and gave an encouraging squeeze. “I’ve seen it over these mega-orns. I’m so proud of you.”_

_“Why are you proud of me? Because I can act better than when I started?”_

_“No, because you aren’t the mech anymore other ‘bots so rudely gossiped about. You’ve grown.”_

_“What does that mean?” Prowl wasn’t sure if he should be proud or insulted._

_“You’ve warmed up, at least to me since our less-than-stellar meeting.” Jazz squeezed again before letting go._

_“What was wrong with my behavior when we met?” Prowl demanded._

_Jazz’s mouth pursed in surprise. “Um, nothing, it’s just that you weren’t as open as you are now.”_

_The tactician considered Jazz’s words carefully. He’d always preferred being closed off. It made his job easier, sending troops out and knowing not all would return. His hope was most of the troops would return but even that wasn’t a guarantee. In favorable conditions it was a statistical likelihood. He murmured, “Perhaps I’ve changed too much.”_

_“What? No, don’t back to that closed off, angry mech,” Jazz instantly protested._

_Prowl’s optics narrowed slightly and he tilted his helm. “Angry? I wasn’t that angry.”_

_“You were angry and rude, especially when we got set up at the house. Makes a mech feel unwanted, but I know now that you were just emotionally stunted.”_

_Could Jazz have insulted him more? Of course he could, but that didn’t mean Prowl was going to give Jazz’s words a pass. “I’ll admit that at times I was rude, but I don’t appreciate the implication that I gave into negative emotions. I don’t give into emotions.”_

_“Not at all? I thought… I thought… never mind.”_

_“What?” Prowl prompted, wanting to know if Jazz had another barb at Prowl’s emotional control on his mind._

_“It’s just that I thought your willingness to understand emotions better was what gave your cover a more realistic identity. I don’t believe you’re still just as hard as you were when you first joined me on this mission,” Jazz pressed, his stance renewed. “I’ve seen you grow and improve, and I like it. I don’t want you to change from the changes you’ve made.”_

_“I’ve always been professional,” Prowl insisted, “except for maybe a lapse or two since finding out about this mission.”_

_Jazz ex-vented and shook his helm. “I’m not talking about professional behaviors.” Jazz tapped Prowl on the chassis. “I’m talking about what’s in here, what’s coming from your spark and not your processor.”_

_“They’re one in the same.”_

_“You aren’t getting it.” Jazz put his hands on Prowl’s shoulders and looked him straight in the optics. “You are letting your mech-side out instead of your tactician-side only. Mechs are filled with emotions, and you aren’t fighting yours nearly as much anymore. I know this because anyone fighting his mech-side wouldn’t be as good at his cover as you.”_

_Jazz was both pushing Prowl’s comfort zone and praising his comfortable skills at the same time. It made Prowl’s processor swim trying to compute that. “I’m not content with that idea, that I’ve become less of a tactician,” Prowl said quietly, feeling a little taxed at the tightness in his chassis that he might be less than what he was before the mission._

_“You aren’t less of a tactician! I swear, when we get back you’ll be a better tactician and I promise you’ll be better as a friend.”_

_Prowl pulled away. “A tactician can’t have friends. We send our friends to their potential deaths. At best we might be able to be friends with each other, but friendship interferes with professional disagreements that could be key to a winning strategy.”_

_Jazz stepped closer and ghosted a lighted touch over Prowl’s arm, not pushing Prowl’s comfort any further. “I think you’re afraid to have friends at all, not afraid of the compromises to duty. I get not friending the average soldier, even if I disagree with it, but you can befriend others in your department. You don’t have to be afraid.”_

_“I’m not afraid! It’s statistically likely to turn into a problem.”_

_“Don’t fall into quote statistics, Prowl. You need to stop starving the mech.”_

_Prowl considered playing naïve and pointing out he was fueling plenty in recent mega-orns. He wasn’t so inexperienced with the topic of emotions to not grasp at Jazz’s words. He didn’t like the idea of “starving” himself, or depriving himself of a life. Then again, he wasn’t the one who changed his life and made it a monotone existence of fighting. However, he also wasn’t the one who turned his life around again and gave it color._

_He’d wished his cover was real, when he was working close with Jazz previously. He’d said things to Jazz he knew weren’t entirely about the deception of his cover. His spark fluttered at their shared moments._

_Prowl placed his hand on his forehelm, shaking his helm. “I don’t know.”_

_“Don’t know what?”_

_“I just don’t know.”_

_Jazz seemed to understand. “Just think about that, at least in the back of your mind. Never starve the mech. This war does enough of that, it doesn’t need your help. Now, you ready for some lunch?”_

_Prowl laughed softly at the topic change. Lunch was easier to deal with. “Yes, although I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t ready to nap as well.”_

_“Why don’t we have lunch now and then we’ll nap together, okay?”_

_Prowl smiled. “Alright.”_

\---

Prowl slowed down, thinking of their first argument but then sped back up. It was different this time. Everything was different now that he knew there was a possible lie overlying everything.

The tactician was aware enough of his surroundings to obey the rules of the road, but it took him a few extra kliks to realize someone was keeping pace with him. A scan told him that it was Dealer. Prowl held back a groan. How is this orn turning outing out so poorly?

“Hi Cade,” Dealer said when he felt the scan.

“What do you want, Dealer?”

“I saw you and I thought that maybe we left things too awkwardly, you know? What with you saying you have nothing to talk to me about. Let’s pull over and talk somewhere private, see if I can’t clear some misunderstanding up.”

Prowl almost said no. He was already frustrated and mentally overtaxed. His tac-set suggested to him that he see if he could move up the Dealer plan that might rush Jazz’s and his exit, giving Prowl a chance to avoid another confrontation with Jazz. With that idea he shoved aside his emotions and focused on the details to pull off his newest task. “How about the alley upcoming on our right?”

“Works for me.”

They pulled over and rounded the corner, but Dealer stopped him before they could walk further down the alley. “What’s wrong?” the merchant asked.

“I’ve been watching the traffic cameras and looking back at traffic camera recordings for behaviors that might give away the traitor’s movements.” Prowl narrowed his optics. “Tell me, what sells are you doing that take you over the border so regularly?” His and Jazz’s plan never called for confronting Dealer directly, but instead getting Dealer to consider it a good idea to join them in moving. Prowl was certain he could figure out how to manipulate someone in conversation, as his last lesson with Jazz taught him.

Dealer gasped, a little more dramatically than Prowl thought was reasonable. “You think I’m the traitor?”

“I can’t deny the possibility.”

“It’s not me, I swear. I do runs to Decepticon outposts near the Autobot outposts. Never the ‘bots.”

Prowl faked relaxing. He knew that was a lie because the traffic cameras confirmed that Dealer visited both sets of outposts, based on his directions. “If that’s true, then you should consider leaving this town while Lockdown hunts down the traitor. You look good for it.”

“And leave behind my business?” Dealer pressed his lips tight. “Do I really look like a traitor?”

“Enough to be on the top three of my list.”

“And where would I go?”

Prowl appeared to weigh options. “You could go to the nearest Decepticon sympathizer or Decepticon town, and see if you can keep some of your contacts there. Or you could come with Meister and me to our new home and make new contacts.”

“Right, your new home. You said that the town had plenty of mechs filled with bitterness and credits?” Dealer’s optics lite up with the possibilities.

“That’s right. You’re our friend and I believe you that you aren’t the traitor. Doesn’t mean that Lockdown will believe you and you know what he’ll do to the traitor. Join us in two orns when we board our shuttle. We could use the company and Meister could use your goods.”

Dealer grinned. “I thought you weren’t leave for roughly half a deca-orn.”

“I’m trying to move it up.”

“That would be good. It’s a deal, tell me if you’re leaving in a couple of orns or sticking to your schedule.”

“Of course. I look forward to you coming.” Prowl turned to leave first. He stepped out but didn’t get in a second step before something slammed into his face, knocking him offline.


	13. Chapter 13

Jazz paced around the house after Prowl nearly slammed the door when he stormed off. He didn’t realize how long he’d been pacing until he heard the door open again. “Prowl?” he called out as he walked to the door.

“No, it’s me,” Mirage answered. When the spy saw Jazz he asked, “What’s happened?”

“Why do you think something’s happened?” Jazz replied defensively.

“Because you look, for the lack of a better term, haunted.”

Jazz thought he was more anxious and angry than anything else, having exposed his spark and getting rewarded with a closed door. Upon reflection, however, he realized he was mostly haunted by his decisions made during Prowl’s and his confrontation. He knew he was pushing Prowl, but he only intended to push enough to get the mech out of his closed-off comfort zone. Apparently he’d over pushed. “I may have forced Prowl out of the house,” he reluctantly admitted.

Mirage’s optics widen slightly. “I repeat: what happened?”

Jazz shrugged helplessly. Mirage ex-vented. “Let’s sit down and you can tell me at your own pace.”

The saboteur wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the spy any of the details, and certainly not the intimate details of his feelings. Mirage was still his friend and he could use an audial for at least some of it.

When they reached the couch it still took Jazz a breem to figure out a starting point. “Prowl and I became closer than you’d think possible, based on how opposite I am to what the rumors said about him.”

“Are you saying the rumors aren’t close to being true? It would take a lot for the two of you to become friends, I would think.”

“Maybe at first, but they aren’t true at all when you get to know him. The short story is I asked him to stay my friend and he rejected that notion as something we couldn’t decide on doing right now. Not with our covers making things more complicated.”

Mirage’s whole attention was on Jazz and the noble, trained to notice the subtle details in body language that gave away another noble’s true intentions, noticed the slight signs of discomfort during Jazz’s story. “I hate to accuse you of lying, Jazz, but I know some of your story is not being told accurately.”

“I hate your intuitiveness.” Jazz flopped against the back of the couch. “Argh, okay. I told him I wanted to keep getting to know him and that’s what freaked him out.”

With a gentle voice, Mirage said, “You feel more for him than just friendship.”

Jazz jolted straight up. “You don’t know that.” Mirage gave Jazz a pointed look and the saboteur sighed in defeat. “Okay, maybe you’re right. That’s what the topic of our discussion was, and he was concerned it was all fake, that it was just the lingering effects of our covers. I pushed him too far, I think, but I wanted to solve our dilemma now. You know how things get once a mission is over. I don’t want to say ‘maybe later.’ It would be too easy to not cross paths again unless we actively wanted it.”

“I can see that. Perhaps you can request he become one of the tacticians to train with overseeing Special Ops tactical planning. Then you can progress at both of your natural pace.”

“Primus I wish I talked to you sooner.” Jazz pulled his face. “Sneaking around and seeing ten steps ahead is supposed to be my forte.”

“Mine is seeing twenty steps ahead so that I’m not an invisible force in the path of someone else.”

“So what now, Sir Twenty-Steps-Ahead?”

Mirage lightly smiled. “You have two options: wait for him or find him. Which do you think makes more sense?”

“Normally I don’t find mechs, I let them come to me.”

“So you think waiting is the right solution?”

Jazz drummed his fingers on his chin. “Mmm, maybe not. Prowl might be the type to let it fester. We haven’t seriously fought before for me to know how he handles these things.”

“Do you know him enough to track him?”

Jazz nodded. “I know where to start.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nah, I think I can handle this myself.”

-

Prowl struggled to online. He tried reaching up to his face where it ached only to find the hand tightly bound. His optics powered on after several flickers, both of them faintly cracked and one even chipped. Biting back the words “what’s going on?”, Prowl worked to silently take in his situation.

There were weapons and labelled boxes stored around him and he realized he was in a small, secret weapon stash warehouse. Prowl was tied tightly to a chair, his hands out front with the rest of his body immobilized, and that chair was tied to a center post. Getting out wasn’t going to happen.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice greeted from behind. Prowl realized his left audial was fuzzy, possibly from impact with the sidewalk.

“Lockdown?” Prowl guessed.

The mech appeared in his sights. Lockdown sneered, “Can’t remember my voice?”

“Your hit caused my audial to take damage.”

“I hit you in the face, not in the audial.”

“No, but I must have landed hard on it,” Prowl patiently explained. “Why am I here? Where is here?”

“Here is a warehouse that Dealer keeps for his darkest clients, or so I understand with his begging for me to let him go in exchange for better tools for my trade.”

“Where is he?”

“Tied up in the office room. I’ll get to him later.” Lockdown bent down to look Prowl in the optic. “You think you could hide him from me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the two of you disappear, and I thought I check in on you to make sure he wasn’t trying anything. Because I’m so concerned for your welfare, you know,” Lockdown sneered again. “Imagine my surprise to instead hear talks about who the traitor is.”

Oh no, Prowl was not sure how to talk his way out of this one. This wasn’t the battle planning he was used to carrying out, and none of Jazz’s teachings told him how to evade trouble during capture. “Dealer said he wasn’t the traitor.”

“Even if I believe that’s true, which I don’t believe a few words said on the street count as trustworthy, the fact you were down to three names when you said there were ‘too many’ tells me you’re a liar. You confronting one of those mechs without me is _very_ unacceptable.” Lockdown withdrew and sauntered over to one of the boxes. Prowl squinted and focused past the cracks to read, “Early interrogation tools.”

“What are you doing?” Prowl was fighting the rise of panic.

“I want the other two names.” Lockdown pulled out the box. “And since you’re a liar and I don’t trust words spoken without consequence, I’m going to incentivize you to tell me the truth.”

Prowl’s beating spark pulsed faster. He didn’t have two names to give.

-

Jazz silently cursed the town’s sort-of library. Prowl’s private space when outside the house was the library. No one had seen him, so now Jazz had to actually use his detective skills to figure out where Prowl was hiding. Jazz started driving around to places Prowl might refuel, then he moved onto Prowl’s work, and finally he moved onto Metronome’s newsstand.

He pulled up to the newsstand. “Metronome, do you know where Cade is?”

“Lost your pre-bondmate?” the humor in Metronome’s voice annoyed Jazz.

“We’re playing hide-and-go-seek,” he retorted. “Do you know where he is or not?”

“I can tell you I saw him driving with Dealer earlier, but I can’t tell you where he stopped.”

That surprised Jazz, and he snapped his helm back in disbelief. Prowl really was a workaholic. “Where at?”

Metronome pointed him to the street and Jazz quickly took off. Once he reached the last spot Prowl was seen Jazz transformed and started asking around. Eventually he found someone who saw Prowl make a turn down another street, and so Jazz followed that lead. He continued until one mech told him that he’d seen Prowl disappear around a corner.

Jazz reached the corner. He rounded it only to stop when his ped landed in something wet. Peering down, Jazz saw a small pool of energon. He knelt down and carefully examined the pool. A piece of red optic was floating in the pool. When Jazz examined it closer he pulled off a color-filtering film.

Immediately Jazz hailed Mirage. ::I need you now.::

-

Prowl slumped forward, his world spinning. Both of his audials were damaged now, one of his doorwing’s corners was fried, and he could feel the trickle of energon from his temple. Dully he thought that now no one could say he hadn’t experienced the real operative life. Lengthy undercover mission and capture? He’d say it counted. For what he’d read of post-rescue-mission reports, this was pretty light torture. The problem was that he still hadn’t thought of two names that deserved to suffer under false pretenses, and Lockdown was only getting started.

For the moment he was alone, Lockdown having finally taken a break from him to interrogate Dealer, giving Prowl a chance to think things over. Prowl’s thoughts should have been on what he was going to do to avoid the next escalation in torture, but instead they were on his fight with Jazz. It seemed they fought forever ago now that his situation had changed, from feeling trapped by Jazz to being literally trapped by Lockdown. Odds were he wasn’t about to die, but there was a lot of hurt Lockdown could do to him without terminating his prey.

Prowl wasn’t sure what he would change about their argument, other than it not happening. He wished they weren’t on the mission at the same time he pined to remember all the good times they had thanks to it. Try as he might to mentally step back and tear apart the details of their fight, his thoughts kept turning to the treasured moments they shared, like the first kiss that sent flutters through Prowl’s spark.

Prowl knew that his cover would be thinking of ways to deter Lockdown from torturing him further, but Prowl was fixated on Jazz. Was this the proof that his cover wasn’t influencing his emotions as much as he feared? His cover would use Meister’s reputation and connections to threaten Lockdown, so why was Prowl’s thoughts about being in Jazz’s arms, feeling his companion kiss away the pain?

Prowl’s spark was soothed as he basked in the memories of Jazz’s lips against his helm and other moments of compassionate care and precious times Prowl hadn’t experienced before Jazz. His memories lasted until he heard a yelp coming from Dealer’s direction. Right now that distance he created earlier wasn’t what he needed from Jazz, but he was glad Jazz wasn’t here and suffering with him.

His tac-set was almost useless, it presenting him with limited options. There was pleading for forgiveness, issuing threats, and waiting it out until he was released. Barricade would not beg for forgiveness, and Prowl wasn’t sure his pride would let him anyways. Threatening Lockdown would likely backfire since Prowl hadn’t done any face-to-face threats, beyond little ones here and there as a dirty police tech. However he wasn’t about to wait it out without trying, so he started preparing his threats.

Lockdown appeared not too much later. He picked up the shock wand that damaged Prowl’s temple. “Have you thought about those names yet?”

Prowl laughed harshly. “I’ve thought about what my pre-bondmate will do to you. You think you’re going to walk away clean?”

“What makes you think I won’t kill you and dump your body in a different town?”

“You’re not a killer, but Meister is.”

“You’re making a bad assumption.” Lockdown patted his hand with the wand.

Prowl was stopped cold by that revelation. Of all his reports of Lockdown’s activities, not once did any hint that he was a killer. Was Lockdown bluffing or was he that excellent at hiding his worst traits? Threats of Meister’s punishment was the wrong way to go. “If I deactivate, then the police force won’t stop until they find my killer. My body will turn up, and even if you destroy my identity chip, they’ll figure it out soon after Meister files a mission mech report.”

Lockdown stopped bouncing the wand. “I’d rather not find out what it’s like to be the hunted, but if you don’t give me those names and Dealer turns out to not be the traitor, I’ll consider risking it.” He zapped Prowl’s arm, the current a little higher than last time.

Prowl gritted his dentae. Looks like he’s waiting this out.

“Do you have any idea how much credits and reputation I’ve put on this?” Another zap on the arm. “I didn’t just pay you off, and you aren’t aware of who’s offering the reward.” Lockdown gave another zap in the same spot, aiming to cause serious injury to that arm.

It didn’t take long for Prowl’s arm to be damaged enough for Lockdown to switch arms. Just as Prowl was about to shout any name Lockdown doubled over.

Lockdown gasped. “Who’s there? Come out where I can see you!” The response knocked Lockdown on the helm. He spun around, punching the air without impact. “Coward!”

Lockdown stalked away from Prowl, hunting his attacker. When he was far away from Prowl, Jazz stepped out and took a charging stance. “How dare you attack my pre-bondmate.”

The tormentor looked back at Prowl, realizing he was too far away to use Prowl as leverage. He growled and dropped down into an attacking stance. Jazz charged him, feigning a direct attack when he dropped down and twisted to the side, swinging his leg out with the motion. His leg connected and Lockdown’s leg crumpled.

The two fought, arms punching, legs kicking, and Jazz moving far more fluidly than Lockdown could keep up. Lockdown scored one lucky hit, scratching Jazz’s face with his hook, but Jazz reciprocated by grabbing the hook and twisting the arm until it popped out of its joint. Lockdown cried out and tried punching Jazz, but Jazz was already too low and rapidly punching Lockdown in the abdomen. A rounding high kick to the elbow had Lockdown’s entire body crumbling in pain. Ropes appeared from nowhere, floating in the air, and they were tied around Lockdown fast.

Jazz rushed to Prowl’s side and untied him while glancing at Prowl’s wounds. “Cade, let’s get you home.”

-

Prowl was resting on the berth, alone and waiting to be patched up, while Jazz and Mirage handled their two captives. Clearly they would need to do a quick extraction now. Lockdown couldn’t be handed over to the police because he knew _someone_ had an invisible cloaking device, and that information was to stay hidden.

He listened carefully even though he knew the downstairs was soundproof. His legs worked fine and he could walk down, but Jazz told him to stay in berth and Prowl wasn’t about to start another argument. Prowl heard the softest sounds of the downstairs door open and Jazz appeared.

“How are you doing?” Jazz asked, a kit in his hand.

“I’ve been in an accident worse than this and pulled through just fine.” Prowl sat up, careful to avoid using his arms and to keep the world from spinning on him again.

“Of course you’re going to pull through, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be feeling awful. Your first torture isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

Prowl gave him a sideways rueful smile. “It was a light torture compared to others.”

Jazz sat down on the berth. “Lean against me so you don’t accidently fall.” When the two of them were comfortably sorted with Prowl’s helm on Jazz’s shoulder and where Jazz could easily apply medical treatment, Jazz continued. “Just because it wasn’t that bad compared to others doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its lingering effects. Come on, talk to me. Bottling up anything you might have floating around in that busy helm of yours can strike at the worst time. I… I _care_ about you.”

Prowl remembered how Jazz used to say, “I love you.” He wondered if Jazz still meant it, and if they’re fight hadn’t happened if he’d be hearing it now.

\---

_“What’s this?” Prowl asked when he entered the darkened room to hear slow music playing and see Jazz moving gracefully through his fighting stances. Off to the side were two energon cubes, their tops glimmering in the low light._

_“That one in yours.” Jazz pointed to the one slightly more filled. He kept moving._

_“I mean, what are you doing?”_

_“Half fighting exercise, half dancing. Ever done it?”_

_“I don’t dance and I haven’t done moving fighting stances in a very long time.”_

_Jazz motioned for him to come to Jazz. “That’s a crime. At least do the fighting stances with me. First take a sip of your energon.”_

_Prowl did just that before getting close to Jazz, edging a little closer when the space seemed too great for doing something together. It didn’t occur to Prowl it wasn’t necessary._

_Prowl followed Jazz through the stances, Jazz starting him off easy. As they got more complex, Jazz would lean over and touch him where he thought Prowl could improve. At one point Jazz found Prowl kept making mistakes with his left hand, so Jazz took the hand in his. He tugged up. “You’re so tight in your core that you keep dropping your hand,” he teased._

_“I am not, I’m just used to guarding lower critical points with this hand.”_

_Jazz turned his helm to look at the music before back at Prowl, a kind smile on his face. “I love this song. Repeat the stance and let’s see if you can keep your hand in the correct spot this time.” Jazz dropped Prowl’s hand and watched the tactician. Prowl moved again and Jazz chuckled. “Again, too low!” He grabbed the hand again and pulled it up, this time lining his shoulder against Prowl’s hand. “And it wasn’t straight. It needs to be straight like this.”_

_“I am trying.”_

_“I know.” Jazz started swaying in place. “I really do love this song.”_

_Prowl, mesmerized by Jazz’s movements, subconsciously started swaying with his arm pressed up against Jazz. Suddenly Jazz dragged Prowl’s arm to his other shoulder, turning Prowl so the two faced each other. He pulled Prowl in by the waist and started swaying him gently._

_They moved together, bodies close together and Jazz leading. As the song neared the end, Jazz said, “I didn’t think you dance.”_

_“For you I’ll dance.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Prowl was surprised and so was Jazz, judging by his expression. Then the shock went away and Jazz whispered, “I love you.”_

_Prowl’s spark fluttered fast and he pulled into Jazz tight. “I love you, too.”_

\---

Would Prowl have reciprocated this time? “I thought about you when he stopped the first time. The first time was painful, but I think it was mostly physiological. Not knowing how far he would go and when it would end wasn’t easy. Not knowing when he would be back was almost just as difficult, and my mind went to a safe area.” Prowl shifted to look Jazz in the visor, though his helm remained on Jazz’s shoulder. “I wish we hadn’t fought.”

Jazz stopped applying medical salve to Prowl’s doorwing. He returned Prowl’s gaze. “I wish that, too. I’m sorry I pushed so hard. It’s just I wanted to resolve this before I might never see you again, that we might go back to our separate ways, but that’s not an option anymore. We’re getting picked up by a shuttle after it turns dark.”

“Oh.” Prowl’s spark constricted. “It would be easy to fall back into our normal routines, which never crossed,” he murmured.

“Yeah, and we won’t see each other during the debriefing or the process of assimilating an operative back into their original persona.”

“You mean their real self.”

“Of course, that’s what I meant.”

Prowl shifted until he was off of Jazz’s shoulder, never breaking optic contact. “Do I know the real you?”

“What?”

“You said original persona. Do you have an Autobot persona like you have a Decepticon persona?”

Jazz grimaced. “I might have one for soldiering, but on a Decepticon mission I don’t use it. You…” Jazz choked. “Unlike almost everyone else, I swear you know me. When I wasn’t Meister, I was me.”

Jazz was himself around Prowl, and except for few others, only Prowl. The revelation warmed Prowl’s spark. If Jazz was ever going to be certain of his feelings not being influenced by a cover, would their moments alone be the best chance of Jazz knowing his true feelings?

Prowl thought of his own feelings. His torture made it impossible to ignore the truth of where his mind went to be safe. How he had remembered their first kiss, the first time he came out of recharge to find Jazz holding him, and the first time they both said “I love you” without pretend. All of that was about to go away. “I love you,” he blurted. “I don’t want you to leave me. Please stay with me once we’re back on base.”

A full smile bloomed across Jazz’s face and he kissed Prowl deeply. “You’re too precious to me to let go so easily. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m finally done with one of my several open stories! :D And only nine months late! >.>


End file.
